


The Shadows We Cast

by Copperheid



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Akechi finally makes friends, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming of Age, Dad junpei, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Injury, Multi, Post P5R, Post-Canon, Self-Indulgent, Shadow Operatives, character focused, if i were listing every character that is recurring i'd be here all day, koromaru is old as balls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27061441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperheid/pseuds/Copperheid
Summary: As people throughout the country begin experiencing a detachment from reality seemingly caused by irregular shadow activity, The Shadow Operatives increase their ranks to include new young persona users to help combat the threat.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter was beta-read by the incomparable MzValkyrie, who has definitely saved my skin by noticing my myriad of typing errors and inability to properly punctuate dialogue.
> 
> tw: Rape mention

It was excruciatingly early on a frigid January morning. Mitsuru Kirijo had a long and tedious day of bureaucracy ahead of her, and would need a steady flow of caffeine and sugar if she had any intention of getting through it. So that morning, like most mornings, she made her way to the independent coffee shop on the corner of the street from outside of the Kirijo Group office building.

Naoto Shirogane knew she would be there, and thus they had stationed themselves waiting for her at a table by the door. 

Mitsuru, it seemed, was distracted by something on her phone as she entered the store, and thus did not seem to clock Naoto’s presence even as she joined the small queue by the till, nor after she made her order for a festively flavoured latte. 

Naoto stood and joined the queue behind her. “Mitsuru-san, may I have a word? It's urgent.”

Mitsuru, to her credit, did not startle at Naoto’s sudden and unannounced presence. In fact, she did not so much as turn around or respond to the person addressing her, nor did she do so as she accepted the coffee from the overworked barista. It was only after Mitsuru had sat down with her wooden stirrer and a sprinkling of cinnamon that she at last cast her sharp gaze on the person who had interrupted her morning ritual. Naoto found this somewhat rude, but also understandable. From what they knew of Mitsuru, they were under the impression that this powerful woman was by no means a morning person.

“Shirogane.” She said gently by way of greeting. “I didn't expect to see you, especially so early.”

Naoto’s delicate face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I would have called at a more sociable hour but I figured this would be the best time to catch you alone.”

They were right, of course. Mitsuru Kirijo was an exceptionally busy woman as the majority shareholder in the multinational business The Kirijo Group, as well as the founder and leader of the secret government sect The Shadow Operatives. Keeping all of her ducks in a row took considerable time and effort.

“It’s fine. I know you are not the type to make friendly visits unannounced, so I assume this is of some degree of importance relating to our work. And besides that, It has been a while since we’ve seen each other in person. I’m glad to see you,” she said, smiling as she cast her eyes to the empty seat Naoto was hovering around. “Please sit down.”

Naoto’s blush deepened, and they raised their shoulders in an unconscious attempt to cover their pink ears. “It is good to see you too Mitsuru-san.” Naoto took the seat as told, immediately leaning forward onto their elbows on the table, steepling their fingers pensively.

“You wouldn’t have happened to have heard from Yu-kun or Rise-chan in the last month, would you?” Naoto asked.

“I can’t say I have.” Mitsuru pursed her lips. “Why do you ask?”

“Lately, they’ve been acting strange.”

“More so than usual, I take it?”

“Yes. It's as though every bad thing that has ever happened to them has been completely erased from their memories, replaced with these uncomfortably saccharine falsehoods.”

“Hm.” Mitsuru tucked an errant strand of her deep red hair behind her ear and fixed Naoto with a curious look. “Such as?”

“Well, Rise-chan mentioned having an unusual amount of leisure time and privacy. She seemed confused when we asked about her stalker, who had recently become more active and aggressive than usual. It had been deeply worrying to her just a few weeks prior. Then, all of a sudden, It’s like she’d never even heard of him.”

Mitsuru nodded. “That is peculiar. And Yu-kun? You mentioned he was acting strangely as well.”

Naoto shrugged. “Well, it's hard to say exactly. He so rarely talks about himself, so it's hard to pick up on obvious changes in his life – but there’s something off about him that I can’t quite put my finger on... He did mention going out for drinks with his parents and his grandmother – which is highly unusual, not only because of his strained relationship with his parents suddenly being perfectly fine – but also, his grandmother, to my knowledge, has been dead for several years.”

“Could he possibly mean his other grandmother?”

“No, I am almost certain he was referring to his mother’s mother. Yu-kun said she preferred to be addressed by her given name as opposed to “grandmother” as it ‘made her feel old’.”

Mitsuru hummed, sipping her cinnamon flavoured latte pensively. “That is alarming. Did you notice any other inconsistencies?”

Naoto shook their head -  _ no. _ “Just minor incongruities which could be explained by much simpler changes in circumstance. Though I did notice that that guy Akechi seems to have vanished, as well. It’s not clear if this bizarre behaviour in Tokyo and his disappearance are connected, but I suspect they may be.”

Mitsuru raises an eyebrow. “Whom, sorry?”

“Oh, I mean that guy who’s been going around calling himself  _ The Second Coming of The Detective Prince _ on TV for the last couple of years.”

Mitsuru smiled knowingly. “I take it that it bothers you that he does that?”

“Well, to put it bluntly, yes. He makes it sound like I endorse his work, but his frankly baffling takes on the Phantom Thieves are not something I want attached to the Shirogane name.”

Mitsuru chuckled, hiding her mouth politely behind her porcelain mug. “I see. But why do you think he may be connected to your friends acting strangely?”

“Well, just before he went MIA, he had claimed to have infiltrated the Phantom Thieves ranks and turned them into the police, leading to their leader’s capture and supposed suicide. Not only that, but he went on to accuse them of being responsible for several unexplained deaths and accidents in the Tokyo area – which makes absolutely no sense, as the majority of these took place prior to the Phantom Thieves formation. I suspect that he knows more than he is letting on, and is purposefully obfuscating the true nature of the Phantom Thieves activities, though to what end I cannot say. So his sudden unannounced disappearance is definitely suspect – it is something I would like to investigate further.”

Mitsuru nodded, placing her drink on a coaster in front of her as she held Naoto under her intense gaze. “And am I to assume that you’re coming to me about this because you want the Shadow Operatives to be involved?”

Naoto swallows hard, casting their gaze down to Mitsuru’s still steaming latte. “I...yes. I suspect strongly that Shadow activity and Persona users may be involved both in the unusual behaviour of my Tokyo-residing friends and the disappearance of Goro Akechi, so it would be unwise to go in alone. If the persons, or entities, truly responsible for the mental shutdowns and psychotic breakdowns are involved in any capacity, I would likely be in over my head. I would greatly appreciate your assistance, Mitsuru-san.”

A pleased grin graced Mitsuru’s charming face. “I agree, Shirogane. In truth, we have believed for some time now that upwards of Level Four Shadow activity has been occurring in Tokyo over the last 2 years, but our intel was limited. It seems that whatever has been affecting the city may be escalating, so it is high time we step in to help resolve the issue. Good catch on the Akechi connection - I had assumed he was nothing but a mere contrarian for the sake of contrarianism, but you may be right about him. I’m unsure what exactly his disappearance says about our opponent, but it would be unwise to overlook it as mere coincidence. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Naoto let out a breath they hadn’t realised they were holding. Mitsuru Kirijo, despite being a long time friend and ally, never failed to be an exceptionally intimidating presence.

“Thank you, Mitsuru-san.” Naoto bowed their head respectfully. “I believe a good place to start would be to speak with the Phantom Thieves most recent ‘victim’ - the former prime minister Masayoshi Shido. He briefly mentioned Akechi in his initial statement to the police. He may have valuable information on him and his potential whereabouts.”

Mitsuru took one last deep drink of her cinnamon latte before gently dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, taking care not to smear her red lipstick. “Then I trust your instincts. I’ll arrange for a full briefing to the rest of the team in the coming days, and we’ll discuss where to go from there.”

Naoto met Mitsuru’s intense claret eyes and offered her a sincere smile. “I look forward to it.”

“Good.” Mitsuru met Naoto’s smile with one of her own. “Well, I have another 30 minutes or so before I have to head off. Would you care for a coffee?”

Naoto’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before an accepting expression took its place on their face. “A tea would be lovely, thank you.”

“Excellent.” Mitsuru said as she stood. “I can’t wait to catch up.”

  
  


\-------------

  
  


Masayoshi Shido proved surprisingly unhelpful. Despite the fact that the Phantom Thieves had seemingly loosened his tongue in regards to his own despicable deeds, he was utterly unwilling to divulge any information about Akechi, going so far as to deny having ever even heard of him.

“I once knew a woman by that name, but I haven't seen her in about 2 decades. What I did to her was despicable, I doubt she’d be happy to hear from me in any case.I don’t know any men by that name though”

“Why, what the hell did you do to her?” Akihiko Sanada had spat, his upper lip raised in unmasked contempt for the man behind the plexiglass.

“We’re getting off topic,” Naoto quickly interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from the sensitive place they sensed it was headed, but Shido had already started answering.

“I used her body in an intolerably cruel way for my own satisfaction,” he said, almost matter-of-factly, but with a guilty puppy dog look that seemed to be asking for sympathy. Clearly, he was asking that of the wrong people. Naoto’s face scrunched up and they looked away abruptly while Akihiko took to banging his hand on the plastic divider.

“You sick piece of shit,” He barked. 

“Akihiko-san, settle down. You’ll get us thrown out.”

Akihiko grumbled under his breath before returning to his seat, holding Shido in his contemptuous steely glare.

Shido ignored him, turning his attention squarely on the detective. “How old is this Akechi?”

“He’ll be 19 this year, I believe. You really don’t know anything about him?”

Shido visibly paled. That told Naoto everything they needed to know.

“I think we’re done here.” They announced as they stood from their chair. “He doesn’t know where Akechi is.”

Akihiko fixed them with a confused look as he too stood up. “Seriously? We just got here.”

Naoto nodded. “Whatever it is that’s made this city a living fantasy has affected his memory.”

Akihiko caught on quickly, steeling his face with a hardened determination. “And you’ve figured out what Akechi’s connection to him is as well, I presume.”

Naoto nodded. “Yes. I think that’s all he’ll be good for, for now.”

“So now we just have to figure out how to –”

“Wait!”

Naoto and Akihiko turned to look back at the miserable looking man who had somehow been prime minister for a few days. Seeing how pitiful he looked in that moment in his prison jumpsuit really drove home how surreal this turn of events was.

“When you find him, please tell him to come and see me. I want to meet him.”

Akihiko rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. Like we’d do that.”

“Please!” he begged, his voice raised in alarm. “I… I have to know.”

“Pssh. Let’s go Naoto.” Akihiko put a steering hand on Naoto’s shoulder, dragging the young detective out of their glossy-eyed gaze they had fixed squarely on the prisoner in question. “Let's discuss this in the car.”

Naoto nods, turning their back on the pitiful man at last as they stepped away.

  
  


\-------

“And then  _ I _ said ‘Hey, isn’t that a honey glazed ham in your shirt?’” Chie took another large mouthful of the pork between her teeth as she spoke. “And y’know wha’ she said? ‘Yeah, but I stole that from the  _ other  _ store!’ You really can’t make this shit up…”

Naoto poked listlessly at the food on their plate. The image of Masayoshi Shido’s desperate face as he begged to be able to speak to Akechi was living rent free in their brain. And his words - ‘ _ When you find him’ _ . Not  _ If.  _ When. Perhaps somewhere deep in his unconscious, underneath whatever weird spell Tokyo has him under, Shido knew that Akechi is alive.

Naoto knew they were over-thinking this. But it’s all they had to go on for the time being. There had to be something about Akechi that they’re missing.

“Hey, Naoto-kun? You listening? You’ve hardly even touched your food, and it looks so good too. Are you okay?” Yukiko’s voice broke Naoto out of their thoughts for a moment.

“Oh, uh, Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about some stuff I'm working on, I suppose.”

“Is this the whole thing with Yu-kun and Rise-chan? Because I’m worried too. It's like they’re completely different people,” said Chie as she swallowed a mouthful of pork and rice.

Naoto nodded. “Not entirely, but it's related.”

“I just wanna know what’s caused it so we can hurry up and go kick its ass and have our friends back,” Kanji added.

Naoto smiled fondly at him. “Yeah, me too.”

Within a minute of returning to their meal, an obnoxiously loud and tinny rendition of a top 40s pop song filled the air, and all eyes at the table turned to the source. Yosuke Hanumura held his phone up as it blared the tune, staring at the screen in wide-eyed incredulity. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” He said. “Yu-kun’s calling.”

“Well, hurry up and put him on speaker then!” Kanji shouted across the table.

Yosuke sat the cellphone in the middle of the food court table as he accepted the call. “Hey partner.”

“ _ Yosuke _ ,” Yu breathed on the other end of the line. “ _ I just had the weirdest month of my life _ .  _ And that is saying a lot _ ”

The group looked at each other with mirrored expressions of concern. 

“Yeah, man? How so?” Yosuke probed.

“ _ Well, my Grandma came back to life and we all forgot she died. No-one around me seems to even remember that we were hanging out with her. I think I’m losing it, man _ .”

“Oh good, you’ve snapped out of whatever weird brainwashy thing was going on with you” Kanji interjects.

“ _ Kanji, is that you? Goddamn it Yosuke, you could have told me I was on speaker. Uncool. _ ”

“Sorry man, we’ve all just been so worried about you. But yeah, the whole gang bar Rise is here,” said Yosuke,

“Hi Sensei!” Teddie called, as if to prove it. “I couldn’t  _ bear _ hearing you act so differently. I missed you!”

“ _ I, uh, missed you too Teddie _ .”

Naoto cleared their throat. “You said nobody else in the city seems to remember that reality changed around you?”

“ _ Is that what happened _ ?” Yu asked seriously. “ _ I thought I was just losing my marbles _ .”

Naoto nodded, then realised Yu could not see them nodding and flushed furiously. “Yes! Uh, I observed for myself that seemingly everyone living in Tokyo seemed to be under some kind of shared illusion that was affecting their memories. You’re not going crazy, don’t worry.”

Yu sighed. “ _ That’s a relief. _ ”

“Yu-kun? Would you mind accompanying me to see Mitsuru-san tomorrow? She’ll want to hear any updates from you specifically.”

“ _ Uh...sure, I don’t think I have plans for tomorrow. Unless all this head screwy shit has made me forget them _ .” Yu sounded uncertain, and Naoto thought they could hear him pacing as he spoke.

“Good, I’ll come and get you tomorrow at 6.”

“ _ Morning or evening _ ?”

“Morning,” They confirmed.

“ _ That’s cold, Naoto-san. _ ”

\---------

Even after whatever spell Tokyo was under had been mysteriously lifted, Naoto found that Masayoshi Shido was of very little help. This time, he no longer denied knowing Akechi altogether, but he refused to elaborate as to the nature of their relationship. It was yet another dead end.

That was, until they stood to leave once more, just as frustrated and empty handed as the first time.

“Detective.” He said, catching Naoto’s attention. “If he’s still out there, he’s not going to be easy to find. He’s smart, and there are a lot of powerful people after him. He won’t be caught easily.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Akihiko snarled dismissively over his shoulder at Shido, his sarcastic words laced with contempt.

But Naoto stilled. “What kind of powerful people?” they asked.

Shido smirked. Was this some sort of game for him? “I have many former associates who know that he knows far too many of their secrets to be left free to share them.”

“I’ll need their names.”

Shido leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “If I told you that, my days would be numbered too. If I cross them, they have the connections to take me out in a heartbeat, even in here.”

It was Akihiko’s turn to whip around and glare at the man. “Well then do the world a favour and start talking.”

“I’m repentant, not suicidal,” Shido sneered.

“Ugh, fuck this.” Akihiko shook his head in disdain. “This is a waste of our time, Naoto. There’s gotta be a better way to find Akechi than talking to this asshole.”

Naoto hummed in agreement. “Let’s hope we find him before Shido’s goons get to him.”

“Right.”

The two left the prison in a comfortable silence, saying nothing until they were safe within the confines of Naoto’s silver Honda Fit.

“That guy is a real piece of work,” Akihiko complained as he stretched out in the passenger seat, loosening his tie.

“I agree. Even if he wasn’t as corrupt as it's possible to be, just his general arrogant air is enough to set me on edge.”

“He’s lucky he’s behind plexiglass. I know it's been a while since I boxed competitively, but I’ve still got it. He wouldn’t know what hit ‘im.” Akihiko took on a confident grin as he punched his open palm in emphasis. It was the first time Akihiko had smiled since Naoto had met with him that day.

Naoto snorted. “Pretty sure he’d know exactly who hit him.”

Akihiko chuckled. “That’s true. He’d deserve it just for what he did to that kid's mom alone, and god knows how many others. I barely even care that he’s an assassin-hiring political weasel – rapists are the lowest of the low if you ask me.”

Naoto shrugged. “I think both are equally disturbing.”

“Thats fair,” Akihiko said, fiddling with the end of his tie. “So, what's our next move?”

Naoto shrugged again. “You’re my superior operative. Isn’t that for you to decide?”

“I’m asking because I value your input?”

“You mean you’re stumped.”

“...Yes.”

“Well, there is one more avenue we’ve yet to explore that may prove fruitful. He may even be more useful than Akechi.”

“Who?”

“The leader of the Phantom Thieves. He was caught and arrested, and gave his testimony in Shido’s hearing that helped put him away.”

“I thought he killed himself?”

“So did I, but apparently the death report was a coverup to hide his escape to prevent his would be assassination by Shido’s associates. Since he’s a minor, his name wasn’t released to the press and the police are unwilling to share any further data on him with me.”

Akihiko nodded. “I can handle that part.” 

Naoto smiled as they fastened their seatbelt and started the engine. Akihiko mirrored them, locking himself in safely.

“Good, I was counting on that,” Naoto said sheepishly.

“PAIRING,” the car’s stereo system announced as it sprang to life. After a moment, it spoke again. “PAIRED”.

Naoto tossed Akihiko their phone and began fiddling with the aircon. “Pick something upbeat, please.”

Akihiko grinned fiendishly. “You bet. Have you ever heard me play anything you didn’t also love?”

“Well, you do play a lot of stuff in English that I have no strong feelings on.”

“Ssh, it's not about the words, it's about the feelings behind them. How can you listen to Stevie Nicks without feeling a little bit magical?”

“In a way, we literally are magical, Akihiko-san.”

Akihiko blew a short breath out of his nose in amusement. “Too right.”

After Naoto once again entrusted him with their phone pin, Akihiko began browsing through Spotify until he found the perfect playlist for their journey.

Naoto set the car off on the road at last. “Alright, now just another 2 hours drive back to Iwatodai. Want to grab lunch on the way back? I’m starving.”

“You bet I do.”

\---------

  
  


Ren Amamiya proved to be a lot easier to track down than Goro Akechi was. However, getting an opportunity to speak to him was like trying to find that mouse that had been living behind your washing machine that always seemed to find its way out of there whenever you tried to catch it.

It felt a bit creepy, stalking an 17 year old in such a small town that they were bound to be noticed – and close enough to Inaba that they had a high chance of being recognised at that. But Naoto knew this kid knew something important about whatever had been happening with the Shadows in Tokyo – It simply had to be done.

This time it was Kanji that came with them. Mitsuru insisted they bring someone along to watch their back just in case Amamiya was more dangerous than he seemed, but at the same time could not spare any one of her usual go to’s – apparently they were attending Ken-kun’s high school graduation and she simply could not spare her auxiliary staff who were filling in for their absence.

So Naoto asked their most reliably available and willing friend to accompany them.

For someone who had only been living in this town for 4 days, Amamiya had somehow managed to acquire a predictable schedule, having already found a job in the nearby town. They had narrowed down the ideal time to corner their target as being during his bus ride to town for work at 6pm, which would be mostly unoccupied and the journey would be long enough for them to get some information out of him if he was willing to speak to them.

So Naoto and Kanji both took the bus from a few stops before where Amamiya would be getting on from outside the school building.

“Remember Kanji, we’re trying to keep a low profile, so try not to shout.”

“Hey, I resent that! You say that like I'm always shoutin’ and bawlin’,” Kanji said, his voice just as loud as usual.

“Yes, because you are.”

“Hey…”

Naoto sighed. “Just... let me do the talking.”

Naoto loved Kanji with all their heart but he was probably the person least suited to stealth besides Teddie. Everything about him, from his appearance to his mannerisms to his voice was  _ loud _ .

Naoto and Kanji took a seat together around the middle of the bus, with Kanji calling dibs on the window seat.

“What does the kid look like again?”

“He’s the guy with curly hair and a cat hiding in his bag. You can’t miss him, really.”

“He carries a cat in his bag? Why?”

Naoto shrugged. “Maybe we’ll ask him if we have time.”

The bus sets off, and after 15 minutes of travelling a mere 2 miles, it pulls up outside the high school Amamiya would soon be attending again.

The only person to step on is a slim teenager with deep black, shaggy curls, thick rimmed glasses and a gym-bag slung over his shoulder, where the head of a black and white cat poked out through the open zipper.

Naoto and Kanji watched him make his way to the back of the bus with a yawn, stretching out his back and legs as he flopped into the seat. As the bus set off back to its low speed crawl, Amamiya reached his hand into the open zipper of his bag to gently scratch the ears of the cat inside.

It was time to pounce.

Naoto rose from their seat and came to the back of the bus to sit directly across from Amamiya, flanked by Kanji, who stood in the way of Amamiya’s most obvious exit route - just in case.

Upon their approach, Amamiya stiffened visibly, his relaxed posture replaced by a rigid back and obsidian eyes blown wide in alarm. His hackles were raised like he was a cat himself.

“You’re Ren Amamiya, correct?” Naoto checked. Amamiya’s face paled and the cat in his bag stirred, popping its head out to gape at them in an expression they would surely recognise as surprise if they saw it on a human.

Amamiya slowly nodded. “And you are?”

“Naoto Shirogane. I’m a private investigator,” Naoto said, offering their petite hand for a gentle shake. “And this is Kanji Tatsumi, a long time friend and colleague of mine.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of you. You’re that Detective Prince.” After shaking Naoto’s hand, Amamiya took the one offered by Kanji. “What’s this about?”

Naoto pursed their lips. “It's best we not discuss too much of this in public, but it's in regards to the change in reality we believe you to have witnessed in Tokyo two months ago.”

That's when the first weird thing of the evening happened.

“How do you want to play this? Should we play dumb, or do you think they already know you were involved?” The cat asked Amamiya.

Despite their shock, Naoto managed to keep their reaction to the cat’s words reserved. Kanji, however, did not.

“Woah, it can talk? That's so cool! How’d it do that? Am I hearing shit?!”

“You heard nothingggg,” The cat tried, waving its paws around like a spooky magician waves their hands. “You are haluuuucinating.”

“Morgana, I think we’re rumbled, bud.”

“Aw man! Wait, does this mean these two are Persona users then?”

Naoto nodded. “Yes, we are. We’re currently trying to piece together what happened a few months ago.”

Amamiya nodded. “Okay. Well, I’ll tell you what I can.” 

\------

Turns out, Amamiya could tell them a lot, but not at that moment.

With their limited time on the bus before Amamiya would have to get off to go to work and the lack of privacy afforded to them in such a public setting – they could only scratch the surface of what they needed to know, but even that was enough.

&n bsp;

They arranged a formal meeting for the following Sunday, and just before Amamiya could depart from the bus, it occurred to Naoto to ask him one last thing.

“Akechi said he betrayed you. Do you know anything of his whereabouts now?”

Amamiya shook his head, his face glum. “No, I don't.”

Morgana, the cat, piped up, adding; “We think he’s dead.”

Before they could ask more, the bus rolled to a stop and Amamiya departed with his bizarre cat in tow.

A dead silence filled the air as Naoto and Kanji looked at each other in shock.

“Well, shit,” Kanji said.

  
  


\------

It was just as Naoto pulled their car into its allocated space outside their apartment that the second weird thing of the evening happened.

Naoto was not unaccustomed to receiving mysterious text messages from unknown senders. As a private detective who also happened to be a reasonably public figure, it was somewhat par for the course to have people who had no intentions of revealing their identities reach out to Naoto in hopes they would carry out investigative work on the downlow for them.

However this time, things were a little bit different. 

Naoto’s phone pinged upon the very second that they pulled the handbrake. It was as though the sender had been tracking them and waiting specifically for the first moment to send them a message without potentially distracting their driving. It was as eerie as it was somewhat endearing – though perhaps just a mere coincidence, it seemed that this possible cyber-stalker cared about their safety.

Naoto unfastened their seatbelt and removed the phone from its holder on the dashboard to check the message.

  
  


**Unknown Sender:** You’re looking for Goro Akechi, right?

**Naoto:** I CANT DISCLOSE THT INFORMATION. Y WHO IS THIS? 

**Unknown Sender:** Jeez, no need to shout. I know how you can find him, probs. Could be wrong, but its a good lead. I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to tell Ren

  
  


Naoto stared at the phone, dumbstruck.

  
  


**Naoto:** WHO R U? PLZ RESPOND

**Unknown Sender:** I CANT DISCLOSE THT INFORMATION

**Naoto: *** thumbs down emoji*

  
  


For a moment, the mysterious texter said nothing. After the silence stretched out for over a minute, however, they finally replied.

  
  


**Unknown Sender:** Fine, just call me Alibaba

**Naoto:** OK U R ALIBABA. WHAT DOES THT MEAN?

**Alibaba:** It doesn’t matter.

**Alibaba:** Look, I have info you’ll appreciate.

**Naoto:** WHAT DO U WANT FOR IT?

**Alibaba:** Nothing but your eternal love and appreciation for doing your job for you

  
  


Naoto got out of their car, locked it, and made their way up the stairs to their apartment, all whilst not taking their eyes off the screen.

  
  


**Naoto:** I DONT LOVE U, I DONT NO U

**Alibaba:** Oof, Harsh. I’m crushed.

**Naoto:** SRY

**Alibaba:** ( ╥ω╥ )  Its fine

**Alibaba:** Anyway… 

  
  


As Naoto entered their apartment, they kicked off their shoes and padded barefoot over to the kitchen to reheat their leftovers for dinner. As they waited for the microwave, Alibaba relayed the information they had in quickfire bursts and Naoto stared, transfixed, at the screen as it came through. 

Finally, when it seemed by the silence on the line that they were done explaining the situation, Naoto felt they could start asking questions of their own. 

  
  


**Naoto:** HOW DID U FIND THIS INFO? PLZ

**Alibaba:** I’ve been trying to track him down too. 1 of my friends actually cares about his stupid ass so I wanna make sure he’s ok. He’s been careful up until now and i think the stress of not having ppl around to kiss his ass is getting to him

**Naoto:** BUT HOW DID U FIND OUT?

**Alibaba:** Oh right. I’m a hacker, I can find these things.

**Naoto:** IS THAT HOW U GOT MY NUMBER?

**Alibaba:** No, it’s on your public website lol. thats how I found out you’re looking for him tho

**Alibaba:** BTW, pretty sure those shoe inserts you were lookin at that make you taller will mean you’ll need to go around wearing giant shoes. Not worth it, Sideshow Bob

**Naoto:** HWO DID YOU FIND THAT OUT?!

**Naoto** : I MEAN HOW!

**Naoto:** I DIDNT BUY THEM

**Alibaba:** Oh and definitely don't put them in a shoe that already has a platform sole unless you really want to break your ankle. I speak from experience

**Alibaba:** Becoz I know you would try it

**Alibaba:** I am all-knowing

**Naoto:** Y SHOULD I TRUST U IF U DONT RESPT PRIVACY?

**Alibaba:** coz i’m the right amount of nosy to find out the important stuff

**Alibaba:** I’d never tell anyone anything embarrassing or look at your incogneato stuff im not a monster

**Naoto:** OK. I WILL RELAY INFO 2 OTHERS IS THAT OK? Y/N? 

**Alibaba:** Ye, just make sure its trustworthy peeps. He sucks but if the wrong ppl found out this stuff that would be bad

**Naoto:** OK

**Alibaba:** Welp, naptime. Good luck with ur investigations n shit

**Naoto:** THNX GDNT


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After at last graduating from high school, Ken has his first Shadow Ops mission in years. Things go awry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Food and nutrition talk that could be potentially triggering for some readers.
> 
> In this fic *spoiler warning*, Chidori did not survive the events of persona 3, so please keep that in mind going forward x
> 
> I'm so sorry there was a delay with this upload - on the very day I posted this fic I had a fall at work and broke my wrist on my dominant hand, and it has seriously impacted my typing speed and therefore my output rate. I still fully intend to upload regularly, but please be patient with me for while the break heals x
> 
> this chapter is unbeta'd because I was feeling real guilty about my output rate and wanted to give you guys something as quick as possible, so if you notice any obvious mistakes please let me know!

Ken Amada felt a strange morose as he pulled on his blazer and adjusted the ribbon tie of his Gekkoukan high uniform that morning. I would be the last time he would likely ever wear it, after all. He had been careful to iron everything with just a little starch to make sure it looked extra straight and crisp, instead of his usual fare of half assed quick run over with the iron just to take the worst of the wrinkles out so that his teachers wouldn’t shout at him. It was important that today he looked his best, lest Mitsuru execute him, so he was not going to risk being anything but perfection that morning.

The monorail ride over to the Gekkoukan building was brimming with other students his age, all looking in similar states of extreme emotion - some seemed excited beyond reason, others fidgety with shifty eyes, others in a silent melancholy with their shoulders slumped and their eyes held low. Others still, like Ken himself, seemed to be experiencing all emotions at once.

Finally, graduation day was here.

It was likely that Ken, more than anyone else on the monorail around him, felt especially mixed about this day. Ken knew he should be happy, excited, to be moving on to greater things in his life than being captain of the soccer club and student council vice president. No more worrying about school. But it remained bittersweet to be celebrating anything on graduation day.

Ken cast his gaze out of the carriage window and watched the water ripple below him. It was such a clear, pale blue in the springtime. He tried to find a serene calm in its shimmering surface, but his anxiety was too high to let that happen. 

Upon arriving at the school gates, Ken remembered how he wished to still be in bed right about then. He had stayed up far too late, by accident of course, for the last several nights. He supposed he ought to cut down on his caffeine intake.

Makoto had once told him that he drank his coffee with hot sauce. Of course, Ken actually tried it, and Junpei had laughed so hard he blew soda out of his nose. Ken had found a karmic justice in that, seeing Junpei in pain for laughing at his own. Akihiko just gave him some milk and told him to take it easy, before giving Junpei an undeserved lecture meant for Makoto about how it was cruel to mess with impressionable kids like that, which Ken in turn had found extremely funny.

Ken sighed at the memory. It seemed today was determined to be a day of remembrance whether he liked it or not.

\-----

The assembly was a simple affair, with the majority of students seated in the audience until it was their turn to accept their diploma, with a speech from the class representative, the student council president, the valedictorian and the principal.

Ken had not made valedictorian, so he had thought he’d be free to take it easy and would not have to give a speech that day, but unfortunately circumstance did not shine in his favour. About a month prior, the student council president had taken ill and was currently in hospital recovering from a kidney transplant donated by her father, which left the responsibility to speak squarely on the vice president’s shoulders.

And of course, Ken Amada was the 2017 Gekkoukan High Student Council Vice President.

Ken had purposefully chosen to be  _ Vice _ President strictly to avoid public speaking duties. Fate continued to be unfair to Ken Amada.

He felt like he might be sick as he waited for the class representative to give him his cue. The room was spinning. He soon found the skin around his left thumb to be bleeding. He supposed he must have been picking at it, though he couldn’t even remember doing so. He did remember worrying his lip between his teeth though, and he knew he would have bitten his nails down to painful stubs if he hadn’t already done so the night before. 

“...Student council vice president, Ken Amada!” The class representative finished, raising his hand to stage right, where Ken cowered timidly behind the curtain.

“Pull yourself together,” he chided himself in a whisper as he took a step out onto the stage. “You fought death and lived to tell the tale, this shit is nothing.” 

It was not nothing. But it was too late to turn back now, as he was already walking towards the microphone perched on the podium in wait for him. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Ken took a deep, shuddering breath. “Thank you, Haruto-san.” He turned his gaze to the crowd of his peers staring up at him. Oh man, there were so many of them.

“As i’m sure you all know, our student council president is unfortunately unable to speak today due to her recent surgery, and I’m sh..sh..sure I speak for everyone when I say that I wish her all the best in her recovery.”

Ken glanced down at the cue cards in front of him, but his vision was swimming so badly he could hardly make out what he’d written down. His sweaty palms were blurring the ink, which did not help.

Ken swallowed. “I, uh...I must admit, I wasn’t really prepared to speak today, but with such a momentous occasion, I knew I had to say something in her stead.” More like he got told that he  _ must _ speak in her stead by the Principle, but as if he’d say that! 

Ken began to ramble in a close approximation of what he remembered writing on his cue cards, stammering all the way, thanking the staff for their hard work even though he in that moment would rather be wringing their necks for expecting this of him.

Ken cleared his throat and hoped that the stage lights didn't show off the sheen of nervous sweat decorating his brow before continuing.

"Even before I attended this Gekkoukan High, I lived in its dorms with students who were almost twice my age. They gave me a sense of attachment to this place long before I had any right to be. I said goodbye for the final time to a loved one here, and I’ll always remember that, as sad as it may be. It may seem, in a way, that our lives are ending on this day too, as we cast away all that we’ve known in our lives so far and take a new unknown road, becoming wholly different people in the process, but know this; we will always find ourselves in the company of others. You can’t live your life alone. Find the people who support you and uplift them, and in turn, when you are feeling lost and downtrodden, they’ll always help you find yourself again.”

Ken brought the speech to a close. It all came out a little too fast and he’d ventured off script a few times, namely when he brought up Makoto, but overall he’d said the things he was supposed to say. Ken felt light headed as he looked forward at the wall at the back of the room. He may have shaken like a soaking wet chihuahua the whole time, but he’d gotten through it, and was met with a polite applause.

“Thank you.” He said, bowing and taking his leave in a hurried walk offstage.

\------

“Well done, Amada-kun,” A girl said to him as he made his way to the exit. “Don’t think i’ve ever seen you talk so much.”

Ken cleared his throat, his voice breaking into a high pitched squeak as he spoke anyway. “Uh...thanks.”

“I could tell you were scared. Good for you, facing your fears like that!” She said, and Ken felt the sting of the backhanded compliment acutely.

“I’m just glad it's over.” He wanted to simply tell her to leave him alone, but it wasn’t worth the drama. Instead, he just quickened his pace, eager to see old friends he knew would be waiting for him outside the school gates.

“You’re cute when you’re nervous,” She added. “Not that you aren’t always cute…”

“‘Kay, good to know.” Ken said flatly.

Pressing away from the girl, past the lockers to the front door that stood agape, Ken saw many adults and older teens greeting their graduating loved ones. They were all huddled in little groups, and even though they were right at the back towards the street, it was hard to miss the people who had come for him. They were striking to look at, after all.

Mitsuru Kirijjo, with her deep carmine hair almost glowing under the pale light of the march sunshine, stood in a sharp blue pinstripe suit that accentuated her waist in a way that was bound to turn heads, even without her high heels propping her to an impressive 10 centimeters of extra height, allowing her to surpass the height of the man stood beside her. 

Akihiko Sanada had thankfully chosen to dress a bit more normally, in a button down pale grey shirt and smart trousers, though the bruise on his clean shaven jawbone was likely to raise a few eyebrows.. 

Behind him was the model and actress Yukari Takeba, a vision in watermelon pink, widely known for her leading role in a long running popular children's series. She stood beside a tall, lanky man by the name of Junpei Iori, who wore a baseball cap with his smart clothes, under which his dark hair stood out in all directions, in desperate need of a trim. He had a baby of around 8 months of age fastened securely to his chest in a baby-sling, her little head poking out of the fabric to show the pink bucket hat with a cute animal face on it, protecting her delicate face from the sun.

Last but not least was Fuuka Yamagishi, who seemed to be the only normal looking person among them. She seemed to have even changed her hair colour to a shiny black, which left a halo of blue where the sun lit it. Fuuka was the smallest of the group, and wore a simple white loose fitting dress with a brown belt, a shawl, and brown ballet flats. If he hadn't known her, he might have thought she had gotten lost in the crowd of ostentatious people around her. But her smile and comfort around them suggested otherwise. 

Fuuka broke into an excited grin as she made eye contact with Ken, and it wasn’t long before the whole group was making their way forward to meet him in the middle of the short path between the school gate and the front door.

“Congrats, man!”

One hand taking the weight of the baby's bottom under the sling, Junpei outstretched his remaining hand upon closing the distance, to which Ken immediately responded with crushing it in a blistering high five.

“Ow, I know you’re pumped on that freedom adrenaline but was that much force really necessary?” he whined.

"I just had to give a speech. Had to release the tension somehow," Ken replied, scratching the back of his neck with his own stinging hand. 

Ken bent down to greet the now awake baby on Junpei's chest, who blinked up at him with deep brown eyes. 

"Hey, Chidori-chan," Ken cooed at the babe. He worried she might cry from being woken up by their loud high five, or from being jostled as Junpei recoiled, but she just smiled, her new tiny teeth on proud display as she giggled. 

“Still a beauty,” Ken mused as he returned the baby’s smile. 

“Nothing like her dad, eh?” Yukari teased, elbowing Junpei carefully to avoid moving Chidori.

“Hey, untrue! She looks just like me. That hair is 100% Iori!” Junpei declared proudly. It was true. While it couldn’t be seen from under her hat, baby Chidori had the same thick greyish brown hair colour as her father’s, and although it was a lot finer and silkier as all baby's hair tends to be, it had the same wavy, unruly nature Junpei’s does when he lets it grow out. Junpei’s ex-finance’s actions may have brought his legitimacy into question, but it was clear to anyone that looked at her that Chidori was very much his. Ken doubted that Junpei would care much even if he wasn’t her biological father, as he would undoubtedly have loved her all the same.

“Congratulations, Ken!” Akihiko said, snapping Ken out of his preoccupation with the baby for the time being as he placed his hand firmly on Ken’s shoulder for a moment. “Can’t believe you’re this old already. Feels like just yesterday I had to carry you home from Tartatus because you were too tired to walk.”

“Hey, it was a long way, and I had short little legs.”

“Not anymore you don't,” Akihiko said teasingly as he looked up at Ken, who now surpassed him in height by a significant amount. Ken winked back at him, making Akihiko snicker.

“Amada,” Mitsuru said softly, stepping in front of Junpei and Akihiko. “I have a graduation present for you.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to -”

“I insist.” She said, passing him a small, thin parcel in manilla paper. Not her usual fare of delicately wrapped ornamental gifts. “It's from all of us.”

“I didn’t know anything about a present.,” Junpei whispered to Akihiko, sounding genuinely confused.

“Neither did I, actually,” Akihiko echoed with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you,” Ken said as he accepted the envelope sized parcel. “Should I open it here?” Ken cast his eyes to the crowd around them warily.

“Maybe somewhere less crowded would be best,” Yukari suggested with a wink.

Ken nodded, placing the gift in his inside coat pocket for safekeeping.

“How come you know what’s in it, Yuka-tan?”

“Because Mitsuru likes me better, duh.”

“That’s not why. She was there when I put it together.” Mitsuru clarified as Fuuka giggled.

“Because you like me better,” Yukari insisted.

Mitsuru rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“Is Aigis seriously not back yet? What's keeping her?” Akihiko pondered aloud.

“Where’d she go?” Ken asked. Ken had been wondering where she was - he had assumed Shadow Ops business, but apparently she should be there. He furrowed his brow. 

“She said she wanted to say hi to someone.” Fuuka explained with a sympathetic look.

Ken nodded thoughtfully. He had an idea who she might be going to ‘speak’ to. He’d been thinking about him a lot that day too.

As if reading his mind, Junpei placed his hand on Ken’s shoulder. “Let's head to the roof.”

\-----

They were not surprised to find Aigis alone on the rooftop, peering out at the cherry blossoms which bloomed on the horizon. Her posture wasn’t as stiff as it once was. Her shoulders were slumped and her head was held low as she leaned against the protective fence enclosing the area. Ken wondered how long she had been standing there.

“Aigis?” Mitsuru called out to her from behind Ken.

Aigis turned, moving quickly to wipe away tears that stained her porcelain face. If Aigis could, Ken imagined she would have flushed with embarrassment as she gave them an uneasy smile.

“Oh, sorry, I hadn’t meant to stay here for so long,” She said meekly.

“It’s okay, Aigis,” Mitsuru assured her. “We understand.”

Aigis nodded sadly. “Still, it was selfish of me.”

Aigis stepped towards the group and did not hesitate to wrap her arms tightly around Ken’s shoulders and pull him down into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Ken-kun. I’m very proud of you,” She said softly beside his ear. Ken returned the embrace, snaking his long arms around her tiny waist. 

“Thank you.” He whispered fondly back.

Aigis released the hug and took a step back, wiping at the fluid still leaking from her opalescent eyes.

“It's good to see you all together.” She said with a halfhearted smile. She held out her arms at Junpei. “Baby,” She commanded.

Without a word, Junpei removed Chidori from the sling and carefully placed her in Aigis’ waiting arms, positioning her just so, in order to make sure she was comfortable and safe in the android’s hold. Aigis beamed down at the baby, who immediately grabbed her necktie and began sucking on it.

“Phew, she was beginning to throw my back out. Thanks Aigis.”

“She says she likes me better,” Aigis said.

“No she didn’t!” Junpei protested. “You don’t even speak baby.”

“Yes I do,” Aigis argued playfully, not looking up as she gently tickled the baby’s tummy with her free hand. “They’re far easier to understand than dogs.” As if to punctuate her point, the baby burst into delighted giggles at her touch, her chubby little legs cycling madly as she squirmed. 

Ken still shook his head in disagreement. “Not true. When Koromaru wants food he paws at his bowl, and when he wants out to the bathroom he sits by the door. When Chidori cries I have no idea what she wants.”

Junpei elbowed Akihiko, speaking in a hushed voice out of the corner of his mouth “Dude, remind me not to let Ken babysit again.”

“Hey, I can hear you. I think I did a great job.”

“You tried to feed her cold formula and called me up in a panic because you couldn’t figure out why she wouldn't drink it,” Junpei reminded him.

“I was studying for my entrance exams and running on 2 hours of sleep, don’t judge me.”

Junpei shook his head. “Excuses, excuses.”

Ken rolled his eyes and took a seat on the stone bench, closely followed by Aigis. 

“I always avoided coming up here, which is a shame, really, because the view is really nice,” He mused.

“Yeah.” Yukari echoed. “It's weird coming to a place like this every day after what happened.”

Akihiko pushed forward and took a seat beside Ken on the opposite side. “Come on, guys. He would not want us sitting around moping on a day like this. Hurry up and open your present, Ken.”

Ken nodded. “Okay,” He said, reaching into his breast pocket and removing the manilla paper package.

Ken had a feeling he knew what this would be. He slid his thumb under the tape holding down the paper and neatly opened it, pulling out the contents of the envelope-like package. Inside the package were two small objects - a pin, and a key. As well as those were two sheets of paper with something written on it.

Ken looked at the pin first, instantly recognising it. It is something Ken had once owned, and had given back to Mitsuru after he realised he ought to prioritise having a safe and healthy school life for the time being, back when he was in middle school. It was the bronze shadow operatives pin.

He heard Mitsuru speak from behind him. “I figured you might want this back, now that school is over and you have a whole summer to kill before you go off to university.”

Ken craned his head around to look at her, twinging his already stiff neck. “I do. I really had been missing this stuff, and spending more time with you guys,” he said. Mitsuru smiled down at him. "Thank you so much, Mitsuru-san" he said, and Mitsuru crouched down a little to pull Ken into a quick hug from behind. "we're all excited to have you back." she told him as she pulled away and stood back to her full height. 

Akihiko leaned over from his perch beside Ken to peer at the items in his hands. “What’s the key for?”

Ken lifted the key to have a closer look at it. It was a very ordinary yale key, in a polished silver finish. It could be for anything.

“Well, it's a key to a bedroom for you at the headquarters, should you want it,” Mitsuru explained. “I know you’ve been working hard to save up for an apartment of your own for when you start college, but as I am to understand it, you haven't settled on a place yet. I figured you might want to save that money for something else and take advantage of some free accommodation while you study. Having a well filled savings account is a great way to start your adult life, after all. Though I understand if you would prefer a little more independence than you would have while living with Aigis and Labrys there”

Ken was stunned into silence, staring at the key and turning it over in his hands. “You’d really let me stay in HQ?”

“You’ll have to pay for any food and clothes and anything else you may need, but your accommodation and work equipment would be provided for, yes.”

“Well, for the time being I don’t have anywhere else to go, and thats an offer that’s almost too good to be true, so I’d have to be pretty stupid not to take it. Koro-chan can come with me, right?”

“If he doesn’t, there will be hell to pay.” Aigis answered. 

“Yes, of course he can. Honestly, I need to have Aigis ask the old boy what his secret is, I’m starting to get wrinkles myself.” Mitsuru joked.

Akihiko rolled his eyes so hard his whole head rolled with them, so he could look at Mitsuru’s completely smooth face in annoyance. “No you’re not, don't be ridiculous.”

“You’re blind, Akihiko. I clearly have fine lines around my eyes and mouth.”

“You’re probably just dehydrated.” Akihiko rebuffed. “Besides, I don’t see anything.”

“You’re too far away to see anything!”

“Then does it matter? If you have to wear magnifying glasses just to notice an imperfection, is it even really an imperfection at all?”

Ken found his head bobbing back and forth between the two of them as they argued like he was watching a tennis match, his stiff neck screaming all the while.

“Seriously though, Koromaru is what…” Junpei counts on his fingers “98 in dog years? That’s OLD. Whatever fountain of youth he’s drinking from, I want some too.”

“It's probably all that fancy food he eats. That dog still eats better than I do,” Ken said.

Akihiko snapped his attention back to Ken. “You should probably work on your diet if Koromaru’s is more balanced. I can help you work out a diet plan and teach you how to track your macros, if you like.”

“If anyone needs help with his diet, it's Junpei.” Yukari said, pointing a thumb at him.

“Says the chick who eats lettuce and salad dressing and calls it dinner.”

“I have to watch my waistline for my work!”

“A whole bottle of caesar dressing is watching your waistline?”

“Do you know how bland lettuce is?”

“Yes! That's why I don’t eat it unless it's on a burger and I'm too lazy to pick it off!”

Fuuka rolled her eyes at them and stepped away from the squabbling friends to stand beside Mitsuru. 

Akihiko glanced conspiratorially at Ken and spoke in a hushed voice. “Does she really eat a whole bottle of dressing in one sitting? Her cholesterol must be through the roof.”

“I’m sure he’s exaggerating.” Ken whispered back.

“Hey, Akihiko-san!” Junpei’s voice broke through the murmurs of the others and they approached the benches. “Who do you think is in better shape, me or Yukari?”

Akihiko looked them both up and down carefully, pursing his lips as he considered them both. “You both are lacking in muscle tone.”

“What?!” They both exclaimed in unison. “Seriously?”

“Jeez, if  _ they’re _ lacking in muscle tone you must think i’m a total slob.” Fuuka murmured to herself.

“Fuuka…” Akihiko said apologetically. “I meant for people in athletic lifestyles. You seem perfectly healthy as you are.”

“Forever the diplomat.” Mitsuru sighed fondly.

“You didn’t really answer the question, Akihiko-senpai!” Yukari said. “Which one of us is in better shape?”

Akihiko rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Fine.” He took another minute to study both of them. “Yukari-san, you could afford to put on a little weight and get more iron in your diet. You look a little pale. Junpei, You really ought to sleep more and drink less.”

“I’m a new dad, man. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You’re both equally fit and both have room to improve. Happy now?”

“How do I get more iron?”

“Try eating liver.”

“Ew.”

Akihiko, for some bizarre reason, looked shocked at her response. “It's one of the most nutrient dense parts of the animal, a powerful source of vitamin A, iron, protein, zinc, folic acid and it reduces your risk of developing arthritis and Alzheimer's disease.”

“Yeah, but it's gross.” Yukari pouted.

“You’ve never even tried it!”

“So? I can tell it's gross.”

Akihiko shook his head in disbelief, but there was a smile creeping onto his face as he did. “Ugh, it's like talking to a brick wall.”

Ken stared at Akihiko. “You sure do know a lot about nutrition, Akihiko-san!. I may have to take you up on that offer from earlier.”

Mitsuru placed a hand on Ken’s shoulder and leaned down to speak into his ear. “Don’t indulge him.”

Akihiko apparently didn’t hear her. “Good to hear, Ken. Not tonight, though. I think if I talk any more about this, I may go insane. We’re supposed to be celebrating, not bickering about diets and shit like that. It's a cheat day, damn it!”

“Speaking of which, we have a reservation for our celebration dinner in about an hour, so we should all really get going.” Mitsuru said as she checked her undoubtably stupid-expensive watch.

“Right,” Ken nodded, getting to his feet and offering a polite hand to Aigis.

“It's alright, I won’t drop her.”

“You’d better not!” Junpei replied, not looking back as he was already making his way to the stairs, followed by the others.

As the group filtered down the stairs, Aigis seemed to linger, and Ken decided to wait for her.

While technically moving towards the stairs, she was repeatedly stopping and casting her gaze out at the world beyond the rooftop.

“You okay, Aigis?”

Aigis seemed taken aback, like she hadn’t even noticed Ken was there. “Oh, yes, i’m fine.” She said, adjusting her posture so that Chidori, who was once again asleep, could lie comfortably against her chest.

“I can feel her heart beating.” She observed. “And the warmth of her breath against my neck. It’s a wonderful feeling.”

Ken kicked at the ground. “Yeah, it is. Is there something you want to talk about, Aigis? You’ve been quiet.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m quite alright. I am just sad. I know I shouldn’t be, and it's been so long that it has no right to weigh on my mind as presently as it is today. But it is how I feel.”

Ken placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the part of Aigis that functions as a shoulder, made to resemble it under the padded black blazer she sported. Aigis raised her free hand to cross her body and gently tap Ken’s fingertips. “Thank you for worrying about me.” she said.

“It’s okay to miss people even after they’ve been gone a long time, Aigis. Especially on days that remind you of that person or when you lost them. Like, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but i’ve been pretty consistently a mess every October 4th for years now”

“You’re never a mess.” Aigis said, shaking her head vigorously. “I think you’re very strong, Ken-kun.”

“You’re the strongest of us all, Aigis. Now c’mon, the others are waiting for us.”

“Okay.” She said softly, casting her gaze back at the rooftop one last time before letting Ken lead her by the hand back down the stairs and away from the school for the very last time.

\------

It was only two days later at 8am that some unfamiliar people in armour plated suits showed up at Ken’s dorm. They refused to speak to anyone but Ken, apparently, so Ken had to wake up and stumble down the stairs in his pyjamas, still bleary eyed and crabby, to answer the door.

“Way to be inconspicuous guys, now my whole dorm thinks i’m some sort of spy.” he whinged. 

“Aw, hell, Ken-kun, what kinda greetin’ is that?” Labrys teased, bursting her way past Ken and into the dorm. “Jeez, who decorated this place? It looks like some 70s hotel run by old ladies.”

Ken shrugged, then began scrubbing the crust out of his eyes with his fists. “No idea. What’s this about, Labrys?”

“We’re here to help you move, dummy.”

Ken blanched, suddenly fully awake. “Wait, what?”

“You heard me. Somethin’s already come up and Mitsuru-san wants ya for somethin’. So these guys...” Labrys points a thumb at the unfamiliar men in suits behind her. “Are gonna escort ya to the mission while I pack up yer things and take em to HQ. Easy peasy, eh squirt?”

Ken was too tired to deal with this. “Couldn’t it have waited until noon, or at least warranted a warning phone call?”

“Nope! Now go get in that shower, mista! We haven’t got all day and you’re lookin  _ pretty _ crusty.” She looked Ken up and down quizzically. “You always been this tall?”

“No.”

“Well, anyway,” Labrys straightened her back. “Best not ta keep Mitsuru-san waitin’! She's a busy lady, y’know! Oh, and she said wear something casual and understated, like jeans and a tshirt or somethin’.”

“You sure that wasn’t her instructions for  _ you,  _ Labrys? You’re kind of making a scene right now.”

Ken cast his eyes to his very confused looking dorm mate who was eating a bowl of porridge on the couch, staring at the scene unfolding around him in morbid fascination. Ken would likely have a lot of explaining to do later. 

“Nope, she definitely said ‘ _ tell Amada to make sure he wears something casual and understated, like jeans and a tshirt or somethin’ of that nature”’ _

Ken sighed. “Fine. I’ll be down in a minute. But there better be coffee waiting for me when I come back.” he said, pointing a finger at her in warning.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll stick a pot on. Now scoot!”.

Ken didn’t need telling twice. Whatever Mitsuru had planned for him, it was important enough to warrant a specific wardrobe rather than the shadow ops standard black suit with armour plating and coloured accents. Granted, Ken hadn’t been fitted for one yet, but it was only a matter of time, and he did have a plain black suit which would suffice in the meantime.

Ken leapt the stairs 4 steps at a time, carrying himself up the 3 flights of stairs to the showers in record time.

\---

When Ken returned, his bangs were still dripping fat wet blobs onto the fabric of his plain orange t-shirt.

He found labrys standing in the kitchenette scratching Koromaru’s ears enthusiastically. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Hey, Ken-kun! That was fast, y’didn’ have to rush that much. Ya coulda at least dried yer hair a lil bit.”

Ken shook his head in imitation of a wet dog, splattering Labrys with some cold water, trying not to laugh at her unimpressed face. 

“Did you make coffee?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. Koromaru says you like it strong and black, so I put an extra spoonful of tha coffee grounds in there for ya!” Labrys reached behind the kettle and revealed a mug of steaming deep brown liquid which smelled like coffee, which at least was a good sign.

Ken took the offered mug by the handle and took a sip. Sure enough, it was coffee. A bit too strong, but cool enough that he could drink it immediately, so it would suffice.

Ken took a larger swig. “Alright, now I just need to ask someone to keep an eye on Koromaru.”

“That’s what I’m here for, ya know!”

“Oh, I thought they sent you specifically because like, I’d be moving into what’s effectively your apartment.”

“I wouldn’t call it my apartment, but it is my home, and yeah, probably. But like, the main reason it's me is because Aigis lost the coin toss for who gets to come get Koro-chan while you go do whatever yer doin’ and all that.”

“Ah.” Ken took another glug of coffee and found himself entering an awkward silence with Labrys. Crap.

“Uh, so do I just - go?”

“Yeah, you can finish ya coffee first though. It's whateva.”

Ken had almost finished his coffee. There was about one gulp left. He finished it.

“Alright, see ya later, Labrys.”

“See ya.”

He gave the cup a quick rinse at the sink. As he was passing Labrys and making his way to the door, a thought occurred to him. “Mitsuru-san didn’t say I need to bring anything, did she? I still have a pretty good spear in my room if you think i’ll need it.”

“Nah, she said to leave that behind, this time.”

“Oh, okay. Well, bye then.”

“Later.”

Ken left.

\------

When Ken left the dorm building he found a black Cadillac waiting outside. There were two guys in black suits and dark sunglasses in the front seat, and one more waiting for him by the back passenger door.

“Where we going, boys?” He asked.

“I cannot disclose that,” One of the men in black said. Yup, everyone in town would definitely think he’s a spy now. Ken couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

“Alright, I guess.”

“#3 will brief you when we arrive on location,” The man said. Ken translated “#3” to mean Akihiko, which was reassuring. At least he wouldn’t be taking orders from some punk he doesn’t know, or Junpei or something. 

Ken wondered if Akihiko being in charge meant that this would be a training exercise. Labrys had told him to wear plain civvies, not workout clothes, but perhaps that was to throw him off. Maybe he wouldn’t need his spear because a new higher tech one would be given to him. But would Mitsuru really have had him woken so abruptly and disturbed his dorm mates for a simple training exercise that could be done anytime? That seemed off.

The man in black opened the Cadillac door and Ken stepped in. He could already sense one of his conspiracy theorist neighbours reporting that he’d been abducted by the secret service or something, which to be fair isn’t too far off since the shadow ops are a secret branch of the government - but nonetheless it would definitely be messy if he were to be reported missing or something. Ken kept his head low in the vain hope that nobody would see his face.

The car had a distinct new car smell, with a fresh leather interior that squeaked when he sat down. Wouldn’t be like Mitsuru not to splash on something needlessly bougie and ostentatious for the simple task of picking up an 18 year old from his school dorm.

After the man in black closed the door behind Ken and got into the backseat from the opposite side, the ride was silent. Ken tried to drum up conversation a few times but he would be quickly knocked back with one word answers at best or go completely unacknowledged at worst. Fortunately, the ride was not a long one - their destination was only a few miles east of Iwatodai, and besides that, the driver apparently had no desire to follow the national speed limits.

The car pulled up to a stop by the curb outside of a stylish looking men’s hairdresser - a bit fancier than your standard barber shop but less pricey than one that would specialise in women’s hair, apparently.

“We have arrived at our destination,” The driver said, sounding eerily like a satnav.

“You will meet #3 in the hairdressing studio and remain there until further notice,” the front passenger added in a flat voice.

Ken furrowed his brow in confusion. This was their destination? It didn’t look even close to being big enough for a training mission, nor was it the type of place Ken would be called to if a shadow popped up. He wouldn’t be a full member of the Shadow Ops until he turned 20, which wouldn’t be for another year and 2 months. So he was only supposed to be called in for emergencies and tasks that require his specific skill set. Unless the government had relaxed their restrictions on auxiliary members since Ken last worked with the Shadow Ops in a way he hadn’t been informed of, which felt unlikely.

Ken narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the other backseat passenger. “You sure this is the place?”

“Yes. #3 is waiting for you inside.”

Ken couldn’t argue. He just had to hope upon hope that the Shadow Ops hadn’t brought in some kind of uniform haircut dresscode. Ken didn’t think he could pull off a cut as short as Akihiko’s.

Ken unfastened his seatbelt and stepped out of the vehicle cautiously. He kept waiting for reality to warp around him and reveal some secret high tech location using a hairdressers as a front, or something. But no, as Ken crossed the threshold into the shop, all he found were a row of barbers chairs set in front of small tables and giant mirrors each framed by a ring of glowing light-bulbs and some more chairs in front of oddly shaped sinks. Your standard hairdresser’s set up.

Nobody was around. Ken noticed a door at the back of the room that he assumed led to the staff area of the shop that was left ajar, so he poked his head around the doorframe to try and see in there. Nobody was there either.

“Hello?” He called into the empty building. “Akihiko-san? Anyone?”

He was met with silence.

It was as Ken was gearing up to storm out in a huff for having his time wasted that he heard the sound of a flushing toilet, followed by the sound of rushing water and a door being opened.

Emerging from a door Ken hadn’t even seen at the back of the staff area was Akihiko, drying his hands hastily on a paper hand-towel.

“Oh, hey Ken, you’re early.”

Ken wasn’t sure if he was mad at Akihiko or himself for being so unobservant, he just knew he was pretty damn mad. “The hell is this about?”

Akihiko looked puzzled as he tossed the paper towel in a nearby bin. “Nobody told you?”

Ken shook his head a little too aggressively. “Nobody tells me anything.”

Akihiko grinned. “Then I’ll tell you - we’re here to set a trap.”

\------------

“Just make sure I'm pretty,” Narukami said.

Ken rolled his eyes as he flattened out another small section of Narukami’s wet hair against the silver foil and folded it, encasing the hair entirely in the aluminium.

“We’re not actually dying your hair, you maniac. It just has to look like we are.”

“So long as I’m beautiful,” Narukami insisted.

A few minutes passed as Ken kept neatly foiling Narukami’s hair, “You think you’d look good as a blonde?” Ken asked, just to fill the silence.

“I think you can look good in anything if you have the right attitude.”

Ken didn’t believe that for a second, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit that Narukami probably would look pretty good in blonde. Well, perhaps good wasn’t quite the right word. Roguish, maybe? 

Ken tapped the top of Narukami’s tin foil head with the plastic end of his parting comb. “There, you’re done.”

Ken cast his gaze to Akihiko, who sat casually in the chair next to Narukami with one leg crossed over the other reading an incredibly trashy magazine, with headlines such as “Lying lover faked a car crash to hide a murder!” and “I took off my bra and lost 80kg! Now my sex life is ruined!”. His face betrayed an abject horror that could either be a reaction to the scenarios presented in the magazine or at the horrible writing. It was truly anyone's guess. 

“Thanks for the  _ help  _ by the way, Akihiko-san.” Ken sneered. Akihiko startled out of whatever he was reading and looked at him. 

“Looked like you had it under control. An apprentice doesn’t learn if they don’t practice their craft under their sensei’s watchful eye, after all.”

Ken stuck his tongue out at him in playful indignance. "Sure, so  _ watchful. _ " 

It turned out that the reason Ken specifically was needed for this task was because they needed someone to play the ever present role of the apprentice hairdresser, which is usually a teenager. Aigis or Labrys could conceivably do it, but they’d have to wear full coverage clothing to obfuscate their less natural looking parts, which the unusually warm weather would make suspicious. So Ken, the only literal teenager in their employ, was the perfect choice.

Beats sitting around doing nothing all day like he had planned to, he supposed.

“How long do I have to sit here staring at myself, again?” Narukami asked.

“Well, he booked the appointment for 12:30, so probably another 30 minutes or so. Depends how punctual he’s feeling.”

Apparently their target was feeling very punctual, because within minutes of Narukami asking, a young man stepped into the store.

Clad in foggy spectacles and a flu mask, the guy was pretty hard to get a read on. He wore a light knee length black cotton jacket with no buttons, under which he was dressed more shabbily than Ken had been expecting him to - low rise straight cut jeans that seemed a size or two too big for him and a baggy, thin grey sweatshirt with a tiny crochet frog sewn on at the breast. Ken found himself wondering how the guy could stand to wear so many layers in such heat outside, but he didn't seem to have even broken a sweat.

His disguise was certainly clever, but his hair gave him away. Golden brown and shiny, it hung past his shoulders and graced his collar bone. Ken could see why he’d booked in for a haircut.

Pulling off a glove and reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve a lense wipe for his glasses, the man spoke in a familiar voice that had an unexpected hoarseness, like he’d recently been shouting or coughing. “Sorry I’m early, with the bus schedules as they are, it was this or be radically late.”

The target removed his glasses to wipe them clean, revealing a distinctive pair of beaujolais eyes fringed by thick eyelashes and harshly underlined by his dark circles.

Akihiko cleared his throat as he got into character. “It’s fine. We’re quiet today, so we can take you now if you like.”

As their target placed his glasses back on his face, Ken noticed his eyes narrow behind them. “That’s interesting, I was under the impression you had been fully booked for weeks now.”

“Yeah, we just had a few cancellations today,” Ken said quickly.

“So now it’s just you and Yu-kun here for the time being,” Akihiko added, then, in a hushed voice, said to himself in English “Haha, You and Yu.”

After snickering to himself at his lame ‘joke’, Akihiko turned his attention to their target. “Just a cut today, yeah?” 

The guy nodded. “Yes. I’m just wanting something low maintenance and a little different from my usual, so I thought I’d go somewhere new to help resist the temptation of sticking to something comfortable and familiar,” He said. Ken wondered if the real reason he wanted a new look was to be less distinctively himself. 

The target took off his coat, thrusting it in Ken’s direction without so much as looking at him. Ken took it, vowing to dig through his pockets and leave a wad of half chewed gum in there or something for the disrespect.

Ken hung the coat up and grabbed a client apron, wordlessly helping their ‘customer’ into it.

“Ken, could wash Shirogane-san’s hair for me while I set up, please?” Akihiko suggested. It dawned on Ken in that moment just how they’d found this guy - You’d think a guy with such a reputation for being intelligent would have more common sense than to use an alias that obvious, but apparently not.

Ken gave Akihiko a small bow. “Yes Sensei.” He then turned to ‘Shirogane’. “This way.”

Ken had never washed another person’s hair before that day. He had bathed Koromaru plenty of times over the years, but it was certainly a very different, weirdly intimate experience doing it to another human. Ken supposed he’d feel similarly about scratching another person’s belly too, so it shouldn’t be that surprising that it felt different.

At least he had been given the opportunity to practice the task on Narukami before their target got there. He had been very polite and patient with Ken, informing him when the water got too hot and when he was being too rough with the lather. Ken had a feeling this guy would not be so forgiving.

Ken led the other teen to the hair washing station and gestured for him to take a seat, which he complied with automatically, removing his flu-mask. Step one, done. There was no mistaking now that this man was indeed minor celebrity Goro Akechi, even with the unexpected patch of dark stubble around his jawline.

As he began fiddling with the water temperature, Akechi spoke to him for the first time. “Are you a new apprentice? You seem nervous.”

Ken decided his best bet was to play into that. “Yeah, I just graduated. It's my first week on the job.” Technically, not even a lie.

“You’ll do great,” Akechi assured him. Ken hadn’t expected that. 

After testing that the water was lukewarm against his skin, he dared to splash a little on Akechi’s scalp. “Is that temperature okay?”

“Yes, that’s perfect. See, you’re doing fine.”

Perhaps Ken had misjudged Akechi by his initial mild rudeness and his plastic tv personality. He seemed genuine in his encouragement, his voice authoritative yet patient.

Ken washed and conditioned Akechi’s hair without any problems. It was a pretty straightforward thing to do, afterall.

Resting a little towel across Akechi’s shoulders, he led him back to the chair beside Narukami where Akihiko was waiting.

A pit of dread fell in Ken’s stomach as he realised he had no idea when this trap was going to be sprung on Akechi. For whatever reason they’d deemed him potentially hostile and dangerous enough to warrant 3 persona users for the job, one of which is even a wildcard, another one of the highest ranking members of the organisation. Typically no persona users would be needed for this sort of mission. Just who is this guy, and what the hell did the shadow ops want with him?

And was  _ Akihiko _ really going to cut his hair?

As Akechi sat down, Ken made for the broom he had been provided with and clung onto it. It seemed like a regular broom you would find in any home or business on the exterior, but Ken knew that hiding under the head, a very sharp blade had been sheathed inside. 

It was somewhat fitting in an odd way that the only weapon Ken had been provided was a broom. Back in his early days of fighting, Ken used to practice his spear skills secretly in his tiny dorm room with a broom. He had broken several toes and a fair few ornaments doing it, but Ken liked to think that it had helped him hone his skills. He’d much rather break a few toes by forcefully crushing them with a broom handle than he would cutting them off on the end of an actual spear, after all.

Akihiko started combing through Akechi’s sopping wet hair with a wide toothed comb, his lips pressed together in a way Ken recognised as a nervous tick.

“So, uh, what kind of thing are you looking for today?”

Ken could see Akechi’s tired face in the mirror. His eyes had narrowed in suspicion at Akihiko’s awkward phrasing and uncertain demeanor. Akihiko was nowhere near qualified to be posing as a barber - his entire list of hairdressing credentials starts and ends at giving his own hair an all-over number 3 buzz cut every few weeks. Ken had a strong feeling Akechi would have no desire to be getting the electric clippers out.

“I don’t have anything in particular in mind.” He said slowly, carefully. “I heard that you are well sought after for your creative cuts taking into consideration the clients face shape and personal needs. So, like I said, something low maintenance, as well as stylish and flattering would be the goal. The specifics are up to you.”

Akihiko went pale. “Ah...yes, I see.”

Perhaps Akihiko could blag his way through this. Ken knew he had a good eye for people - he could pick out that Yukari was mildly anemic just by looking at her, after all. Surely he could put his eye for people’s body constitution to use so that he could talk the talk in a way that he could make a shoddy job look purposeful and artistic?

Akihiko just nodded dumbly. Perhaps Ken had given him too much credit.

“Well, let's start with what kind of length you’re looking for,” he eventually managed.

“Around chin length, I think. Perhaps a little shorter even, if it means I don’t have to get it cut again for a while.”

“Okay, so a youthful chin length trendy cut that balances your heart-shaped face and that’s easy to style and won't require frequent trims. I think I can work with that.”

And with that, Akihiko took the scissors and made the first cut.

He had left himself no room for error, immediately jumping in to cut 15 centimetres off a section of hair at the back of Akechi’s head.

Akihiko appeared to be making purposeful cuts, aiming for a precise straight line at the nape of the neck. His hands were steady enough to achieve that, at least, but Ken wasn’t so sure that a girly straight bob was what Akechi really had in mind, and at least in these initial stages that seemed to be exactly where Akihiko was taking him.

After a while, Ken couldn’t bare to watch. He turned his attention to sweeping the floor with his ‘broom’ and making idle conversation with Narukami for the time being.

Akechi’s voice drew his attention, however. He seemed perfectly calm as he eyed Akihiko through his reflection in the mirror.

“So, is that scar on your head a result of an unfortunate hair clipper accident?” He asked him jokingly.

“Oh no. A guy came at me with a knife. Normally I would have dodged out of the way without much trouble, but I was really drunk when it happened so my reflexes just weren’t there. I’m lucky he only grazed me,” Akihiko explained

It’s funny, Akihiko had gotten that scar years ago and not once had Ken thought to ask him how he’d gotten it. Though was now really the time to be honest about it? While they’re trying to pretend to be normal people?

Akechi’s eyes widened in horror. “A guy tried to stab you in the head?”

Akihiko laughed. “I think he was aiming for my shoulder, to be honest.Or maybe my eye. He was also very drunk, so his aim was even shoddier than my reflexes.” Ken wanted to shout at Akihiko for being so casual. This was something a normal person (that hadn’t gone on a Russell Crowe esque ‘Fightin round the world’ tour) would find deeply traumatic. Now this guy probably thinks he’s ex Yakuza or something.

Akechi was visibly on edge, his back uncomfortably straight and his shoulders stiff as he sat. Akihiko kept chopping at his hair like he hadn’t noticed.

“It was alright though. I barely even felt it. That guy was a total glass-jaw anyway. One punch and he was out cold.”

Ken elbowed Akihiko in the side as he swept up a pile of Akechi’s hair. “Cool it, Saitama. You’re freaking him out,” He hissed quietly into Akihiko’s ear between his clenched teeth.

Akechi was resting his chin in the crook of his thumb and forefinger, staring at the three people reflected in the mirror before him with a furrowed brow. He looked so tense that Ken was sure that if someone sneezed he’d probably startle hard enough to pull a muscle. 

“That’s...fortunate. I’m glad you’re alright,” Akechi said, his voice carrying an air of suspicion again. That wasn’t good.

Akechi continued. “I can’t believe they’ve already roped another teenager into this mess.” He eyed Ken sympathetically through the mirror. Ken’s gut sank.

It all happened so quickly from there.

Akechi leapt to his feet suddenly, turning around and attempting to kick the barber’s chair into Akihiko without success, as it was fixed to the floor. Realising simply knocking over the closest threat wouldn’t work, he seemed to quickly change tactic, instead diving towards Akihiko.

Ken kicked off the broomhead of his spear and turned the tip upward to point it at Akechi as he made the mistake of trying to get too close to Akihiko. As a boxer, the last thing anyone fighting him wanted to do was close the distance between them. Akechi had apparently spotted Akihiko’s evoker hiding behind his apron and seemed to be aiming to grab it, but Akihiko knocked him back with a restrained punch to the ribs, which was still hard enough to knock him off balance and steal all of the air out of his lungs.

Meanwhile, Narukami sat there, casually texting as he reached with the unoccupied hand to grab the evoker tucked into the back of his jeans.

Akechi seemed to recover surprisingly quickly and made another pass at Akihiko’s evoker, which he must have thought was a gun. “Calm the fuck down, Akechi!” Ken shouted as he swept Akechi’s feet out from under him with the length of his spear. Better to take a tumble than face another of Akihiko’s brutal blows, after all. “We don’t want to hurt you!”

Akechi had a feral determination as he clambered back to his feet, but as he made a third pass at an unarmed attack on Akihiko, the sound of an evoker filled the room as Narukami called out “Persona!”

Akechi’s head whipped around to look at Narukami with wide eyes, his face white as a sheet. Behind Narukami emerged one of his many, many personas - this one in the form of a small blonde girl. Alice. 

It only took a mere second for Ken to cotton on to Narukami’s plan here - use a persona which can instantly knock out the opponent while causing minimal damage to their bodies. Alice specialised in curse, so naturally Ken’s next move should that fail was to follow up with bless.

Akihiko flashed them both a look that said ‘don’t you dare’, but he was too late to stop Narukami.

“Die for me.” He said, and the tiny girl moved. Shards of what appeared to be playing cards fell from the sky, but as they tried to strike Akechi they were instead met with an invisible shield on which they bounced off harmlessly.

So, it was true. Akechi had a persona. One that blocks curse attacks, at that.

Akechi remained still, weighing his options. His voice was squeaky with alarm as he finally spoke. “How did you do that? The metaverse is gone. And I thought only  _ he  _ could use Alice.”

The hell is the metaverse? Who is ‘He’? Ken passed Akihiko a questioning look. Should he call on Kala-Nemi to knock Akechi out with an attack he’s most likely weak to, or should they risk hurting him in an effort to keep him awake enough to talk to? It would be nice to at least try and get answers to those questions.

Akihiko pursed his lips and shook his head once, which was all he needed. Ken did not reach for his evoker.

“If you calm down, we’ll tell you all about it,” Akihiko offered. 

Akechi glanced warily between Narukami, Akihiko, and the scissors still clutched in Akihiko’s fist.

“And if I don’t?”

Akihiko gave a halfhearted smile, amused. “Then you have to go back to fighting a fight you can’t win.”

Akechi rolled his shoulders, his face scrunched viciously. “I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you,” he snarled. 

“Ken’s persona knows Hamaon, you know,” Akihiko countered pleasantly. 

Akechi’s eyes met Ken’s, as if he was only registering Ken as a threat for the first time. While it was true that Ken was probably the most reluctant to take the offensive with Akechi, it still stung. It’s not like Akechi would just be underestimating him based on his age - he and Akechi are the same age! He must have some other, much more rude reason to think he’s less of a danger than the others.

He turned his eyes to look back at Akihiko. " And who's to say that's any danger to me?" 

Narukami piped up. "Judging by that look you just gave Ken-kun, I'd say  _ you _ did."

Akechi's narrowed eyes flicked rapidly between the three of them. "If you haven't been sent to kill me, what the hell do you want from me?" 

Akihiko's face softened. "We just want to talk."

It was like Akechi was a balloon that someone rapidly released all the air from. He sagged as all the fight left his body, his posture slumping and his left hand rising to soothe his aching ribs. 

He sighed, staring at his feet for a moment before snapping his head up to stare at Akihiko with a renewed determination. "Then I have some questions for you, too."

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DILF Junpei rights


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akechi tries to come to terms with the whole not-being-dead thing

Goro Akechi awoke with a start. He jolted abruptly upright in a way that sent an unexpected blooming pain shooting through his abdomen, sending shockwaves up his spine so suddenly and acutely that little bright sparks appeared in his blurry vision. Goro yelped, doubling over as his hand rose protectively to the site of the injury.

After what seemed like an eternity of trying to hold back tears, the pain subsided enough that Goro was able to peel back the plain cotton t-shirt he didn’t think he’d seen before and took a look at the damage.

There, a long, thick, mostly straight wound ran down the center of his abdomen, circling around his navel. The wound appeared to have been healing for a few weeks, with the stitches having already been taken out. It was pale with pinkish raised edges where a new thick scar was beginning to form.

_ Surgery following a gunshot wound to the abdomen _ , the analytical side of Goro’s mind supplied.   
_ Life ruining disfiguration _ , the dramatic side added unhelpfully.

Goro let the shirt fall back down and cast his eyes around the unfamiliar room he had found himself in. Simple cream walls adorned with minimal and tasteful traditional Japanese art. He recognised one, depicting a young woman visiting a temple, as a mass market replica of a Madarame piece. Though in light of what the Phantom Thieves had uncovered about the artist, Goro knew it was likely not he who created it.

The room was 4 tatami mats wide, and in the corner of the room sat a rather large and charming bonsai, perfectly trimmed to bring life into the otherwise rather empty room.

With surprising difficulty (which ought not to have been surprising given how much pain he had been in just a few minutes prior) Goro rose from the futon and put it back in the storage cupboard behind him before slipping into the yukata that was hanging up waiting for him.

Goro supposed from what little he could glean from his immediate environment that he must be in some sort of inn or rehabilitation retreat. His mother used to frequent a women’s retreat near Iwatodai whenever clients got too rough with her. Supposedly the people there had not only sheltered her, but had also helped her find work in a safer field for a while. She would usually take Goro with her, but it had been so long now since Goro had been there that he couldn’t really remember what it looked like. Could that be where he was? Surely not. To Goro’s knowledge they only accepted female guests and occasionally their children, of which he was neither.

Sliding back the shoji door, Goro stepped out into the hallway, where a relaxing water-feature sat at one end of the hall, the other end leading to a set of stairs. Across from his room and a little to the left was a room marked with a sign denoting it as a toilet. Goro hobbled inside.

It was a very small but clean simple water closet with a single toilet, sink and mirror. Goro gleaned that this must mean wherever he was must have had a bathhouse, supporting his theory that he was in some sort of hotel or relaxation retreat. 

Goro stumbled a little as he stepped barefoot onto the tile, the change in surface somehow jarring in his exhausted and pained state. Gathering himself, he turned to the sink, bracing his hands on either side of the porcelain as he stared at himself in the mirror.

Staring back at him was undeniably still Goro Akechi, but the difference from how he’d appeared in Maruki’s reality was night and day. Just yesterday he’d been clean shaven with a warm complexion, neatly maintained hair that had been recently trimmed and he’d still had his youthful full cheeks. Now, however, he locked eyes with a person who looked like they’d had their soul forcibly sucked out. His skin was pale and greyish, with bruise-like dark circles that even his thickest concealer wouldn’t be able to hide. His face looked hollow and thin, his high cheekbones as sharp as a knife’s edge. His eyebrows were unplucked and growing in all of the wrong places to match a rather pathetic scraggly beard and moustache. His hair had grown past his shoulders and sat limp and greasy, close to his head. The only thing that had seemed to remain constant about Goro’s appearance in both realities was the stress acne that marred his forehead under his bangs.

Basically, he looked like death warmed over. Fitting, really, for someone who is supposed to be dead.

Goro splashed his face with cold water in the vain hope it would help him to calm down and assess, but to no avail. He was freaking out. He had managed to keep himself calm but having the reality of how much he’d missed stare back at him felt like a steel-toed boot kicking him in the chest with prejudice. It was a lot to take in.

Goro spent a few minutes with his head in his hands, just trying to slow his breathing and collect himself. To formulate some kind of plan to find out what the hell had happened to him in the last month, but all he could come up with was to investigate his surroundings further.

With his next move determined, Goro finally felt the panic abate for the moment. With some difficulty and several winces, Goro left the W.C and followed the stairs down. He found himself in a reception area, where a surprised-looking middle aged woman balked at the sight of him, words she had been about to say to someone out of view strangled in her throat. Perhaps he ought to have changed into day clothes instead of wandering around in his Yukata, though it was too late to worry about it.

She swallowed hard, before stepping out from behind the desk. She wore a pale blue kimono and her short black hair was neatly brushed back. “A-a-Akechi-kun. You should be resting.”

“I’m fine,” he said firmly, though it came across that he snapped at her, judging by her wincing reaction.

“No, really! I’ll bring breakfast to you in a few hours. The doctor ordered you to rest for the time being. Please, go back to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Goro lied. From his perspective he’d just battled someone as powerful as a god. He was drained to the bone. That said, sleep could wait. Goro needed far more information regarding his current living situation before he could even  _ think  _ about letting his guard down enough to shut his eyes.

Seeing that Goro apparently had no intention of listening to her, the woman's face dropped into an expression of annoyed indifference. “Fine, but if you go into shock again it's your own fault. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Goro’s temper started to flare but he bit it back, forcing a snide politeness as he said “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, completely deadpan. "Then where's your cane? You surely can't expect to get around for long without it." 

Goro rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in indignation. "While  _ some _ may say I dress like one, I am _ not _ actually some feeble geriatric in need of careful monitoring and walking aids. I'll manage fine on my own."

"Good luck with that."

Clearly done with their conversation, the woman returned to whatever she had been working on at the desk. Goro, on the other hand, needed more information. He had just been plopped back into reality with no frame of reference for whatever had been happening to his true self, or at the very least his real body, for the last month, with a further chunk missing from whatever had been the immediate aftermath of his confrontation with Ren and his people in his useless progenitor’s palace - presumably, he’d been in a state of unconsciousness after being shot for at least some of that unaccounted time. If Goro wanted a more detailed account of what had been happening while his mind was being strung along in The Good Doctor’s cruel paradise he would need to start asking questions.

However, he knew that if he were to ask outright about his immediate past he may seem to not be of sound mind, or even simply to be annoying, and Goro could not bear that either. He would have to take a more subtle approach. But how?

“You spacing out again, Akechi?” The woman interrupted his thoughts.

“Oh, no, I am quite present,” Goro hastily replied. “I was just thinking of what I would like for breakfast.” A terrible save, he chastised himself. He was steering this conversation away from anything useful already, like a fool.

“Probably the same as you always have - tamago gohan with toast and coffee.”

Apparently even while being served breakfast by others, Goro was still a creature of habit while on autopilot and had opted for his usual breakfast, prioritising convenience over flavour. It was a breakfast that covered his base needs that even a complete idiot could make, so it was typically his go to choice when making breakfast for himself - but if he was paying for food prepared by somebody else, he normally would have asked for something more elaborate and interesting. Perhaps this was useful information. An indication of his behaviour patterns while his consciousness was existing in another reality. 

Goro pursed his lip thoughtfully. “I think i’ll have something different this time. Best not to get too stuck in routine.”

“Is that why you’re up at 5am?”

Really, that early? “...yes,” He lied.

Goro moved to stretch his back out and found the skin around his wound pull painfully taut, doubling over as he winced. 

“What was that about you not being infirm?”

A snide smile, against the odds, found its way onto Goro’s pained face. “I’m as firm as ever,” He said teasingly, eyes slowly widening, smile sliding agape in abject horror as he realised the implications of what he’d said. “Oh, wait, not like that!”

The woman chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “Go to bed, Akechi.”

This time, Goro was far too mortified to protest, turning slowly and struggling his way back upstairs to his room. Perhaps a much needed nap would help him regain his wits even if his dignity was still in tatters.

\----------------------

Finding out what had happened to him over the course of January proved to be more difficult than Goro had anticipated. He didn’t have access to his mobile phone except for one hour each night after dinner and his mobile data connection was abysmal in the rural town surrounded by mountains. This meant that he had limited records of his own activities - usually he could have checked his purchase history, searched locations on his regular navigation app and checked his social media postings for clues as to how he’d wound up recovering in a rehabilitation resort for traumatized women. It made little sense that he would have taken himself there. Especially somewhere so far away from Tokyo.

His banking history did provide a few clues, at least. Goro usually received payments from one of Shido’s offshore accounts into his savings account for performing his spiritual hits, but no such money had entered his account since his attempt on Ren Amamiya's life. This suggested that he hadn't been active in some time, as would be expected. Furthermore, Goro did not seem to have made his direct debit payments towards his apartment just outside Kichijoji, suggesting that at some point he must have either been evicted or he had opted to move out. 

Goro hypothesised that this change coincided with the change of Shido’s heart by the Phantom Thieves that rendered his usefulness to Shido completely obsolete, right after his injury. He must have been lucid sometime before Maruki’s false reality took effect, as he seemed to have left his apartment in December, or else his direct debit would have still been taken at the end of the twelfth month as it always had. He also would have had enough money in his account to cover the payment at the time it was due, so he must have done so intentionally.

Goro had stewed on his motives for a few days, trying to suss out exactly why he would actively choose to render himself homeless (he couldn’t hope to afford to stay at the rehab retreat indefinitely, after all - it was a mere temporary fix). The first, and most likely conclusion that Goro arrived at was the idea that he had gone there to hide.

Goro knew, after all, that with Shido in prison there would be many powerful people who knew who he was and that he knew too much to be left alive. It made perfect sense that he would leave behind his last known address and hide somewhere unexpected far away from the public eye where he would be less likely to be recognised.

The question that lingered, however, was how on Earth he had managed to pull this off whilst not only having no control of his own body - but also, as it turns out, in physically very bad shape. A whole two week gap in his memory between getting shot in Shido’s palace and appearing in Maruki’s reality remained. Even if he was some sort of cheap facsimile of himself in the true reality who retained his intelligence, it still seemed odd. His real mind had been off in fairyland watching everyone he knew have every likeable aspect of themselves drained away and substituted with an asinine doppelganger who simultaneously existed in perpetual bliss and mind-numbing boredom. Meanwhile his body was apparently carefully taking him off the map. Perhaps there was more to it than met the eye.

\----------------------------------

After a few more weeks of milling around uselessly, desperate to find more information on his movements throughout late December and January, Goro found he was repeatedly coming up short. Not many people in the resort seemed eager to speak with him, many seeming either annoyed or outright scared of him. Had he acted aggressively before he returned to reality? Nobody said anything to him which could confirm or deny that notion.

Goro knew he would not be able to afford living there much longer. He didn’t have access to the funds in his savings account and wouldn’t until his 20th birthday, so he was relying entirely on his fast dwindling earnings from his time as a teen detective and his appearance fees from his celebrity gigs, neither of which had paid particularly well. At least, not well enough to counterbalance Goro’s often extravagant spending habits.

Fortunately, as the days passed, he did gain more liberty around the retreat as his body recovered further. Each step had once sent him a shockwave of agony as the skin around the wound site pulled and tightened. That agony eventually transformed into a mild discomfort, then a tingly, almost numb feeling. It was a lot better. 

With more freedom came more opportunities to learn and Goro was eager to cease them with both hands.

When Goro was feeling more agile, he was able to start eating with the other guests of the resort.

All of the other guests besides himself were women, most of whom were in their 30s. Some were there on a mental health break, hoping time enjoying peace away from distractions like social media in a beautiful and serene environment may raise their spirits. Others were there hoping to quit their addictions and vices. Most however were battered spouses and sex workers looking to get away from abusers in their lives. It was a feeling Goro could empathise with. Yet, somewhat understandably, they were still skittish around him.

Goro didn’t have as many female admirers in their demographic as he did among girls his own age, but he had expected at least some of them to recognise him and shower him with unwelcome attention - but it just didn’t happen. Goro wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or worried by that.

Some of the women formed little friendship groups, but most seemed to keep to themselves. None seemed to know much about Goro or why he was there, so he quickly learned it would be pointless to try and glean that kind of information from them.

Goro had written the other guests off as a dead end until the evening of February 27th, when a new guest arrived at the retreat. She was a little younger than most of the other guests, perhaps in her early 20s, but that was not what gave Goro pause about her.

Goro had seen her while she was checking in. A middle aged man and woman - her parents, presumably - were speaking in hushed voices to the staff while the young woman sat in a chair in the lobby alone, surrounded by her bags, staring emptily and unseeingly at the back wall with the most painfully tight looking, beaming smile Goro had ever seen.

For the first time in his life, Goro couldn’t take his eyes off of a  _ girl,  _ but it wasn’t for the reason some would think.

She was horrifying in a mesmerising sort of way, like a piece of gruesomely violent but splendidly composed piece of art. There was a sinister hollowness to her, all teeth, eyes dry and vacant. She reminded Goro of the victims of a famous American comic book villain, whose modus operandi was killing with a gas that forced his victims to laugh themselves to death, not only in how she looked, but also in that she was viscerally unnerving but also deeply pitiable.

Goro could see the girl’s mother crying as she spoke to the clerk, her clumpy mascara bleeding onto her pale face as she sobbed unintelligibly. Her husband had a hand on her shoulder. Goro could not make out the words from the distance he’d placed himself at, but he could discern that he was speaking calmly but with a noticeable catch in his voice. 

Whatever reason it was that had brought their daughter to this place in such a condition, it was not good.

\------------------

As February turned to March, Goro knew his time at the resort would be coming to a close soon. For a time after his condition had improved some, he had gotten by earning his keep as a cleaner, doing what little he could manage. He knew, however, that he was more of a burden than an asset to the work they do, so he ought to move on.

This meant finding somewhere else to go, which would be no small feat. With very little money, no reliable connections and a well known public identity, he’d probably have an easier time finding an assassin out for his head than he would a safe place to stay. At least, on his own, anyway.

Though, at the very least, the increased access to the internet upon his departure would certainly not be unwelcome. That would not matter for long, Goro knew, for he would likely need to trade in his expensive smartphone for a much cheaper, harder to trace burner phone that would not be able to make much use of it. At least he could use the PCs in the public library.

There were still so many unknowns keeping such a move from becoming a reality. Goro knew very little of how to successfully disappear  _ on purpose _ , so it was a rather daunting proposition. But on one unusually high pain day, he very abruptly thrust those half baked ideas into motion.

\- - - - - - - -

He had needed a little fresh air, overwhelmed and lightheaded from the pungent aroma of the cleaning products and irritable from the pain of a blinding migraine and the aching muscles in his still tender core. He had been working himself well past his limits, it seemed. And so Goro sought out the zen garden at first opportunity.

Ordinarily Goro would have thrown on some sandals before stepping outside, but there was something unique about this particular pain that made his brain feel fuzzy and heavy, reminiscent of the static on his old cathode ray TV when it lost signal. It wasn’t even so much that he forgot, but rather that he simply could not give less of a shit about what he did with his godforsaken feet at that moment in time. He just needed to get out of the sticky warmth of the bathhouse changing rooms he’d been cleaning lest he faint and cave his head in on the tile. 

So Goro set out barefoot into the garden and was immediately welcomed by the cool evening air and the gentle bristle of freshly trimmed grass between his toes. A delicate breeze carried his overlong hair in a swooping arc, his distracted thoughts remarking as he took it in that he really ought to get a haircut soon.

Goro followed the grassy path to the shade of a cherry blossom tree overlooking a pond filled with circling koi, the waters edge dusted with a thin layer of rosy petals. Goro stood and stared at the fish in the low lamplight for a solid minute in silence, just watching the fish dance in their playful circles under the iridescent water. There was something ethereal about it, and Goro could sort of see now why it was called a zen garden. It was quiet, but not so quiet as to be crushing, calm yet distracting enough in its beauty to pull him away from the reminders of his still searing pain.

Goro didn’t remember moving to the ground, but nevertheless he found himself lying down in the grass by the pond’s edge, staring up at the clear night sky illuminated by a thousand shining stars. Goro imagined this would be a lot more pleasant to look at if he had some fucking painkillers.

He must have been there for quite a while, just staring up at the sky and trying to remember which constellations were which. His vision was too blurry to really discern much. His hand had drifted to graze the surface of the water, and now and then he felt a fish come up to inspect the errant fingers. Some gently nibbled the tips of his fingers, or just grazed against him as they swam past. There was something friendly about it, and Goro allowed his brain to shut off and just feel the little sensations of the cool water against his skin and the fish against his fingertips. He did as best he could to ignore the ache in his tender skin or the pounding headache that made his eyes feel like marbles in his head. It wasn’t easy. But it helped.

After a while, Goro heard someone sit down next to him. He hadn’t even noticed their approach, he just suddenly felt their presence beside him and heard the thunk of their ass hitting the ground as they sat.

They didn’t say anything. For a while, Goro opted to ignore them.

It was when they grabbed him by the hair and pulled that Goro gave them his full attention. He jolted upright, doubling over in pain at the sudden movement and fixing the person beside him with quite possibly the most withering glare he’d pulled since coming face to face with Maruki.

“What the hell?” he snapped.

It was that girl who had arrived a week prior. She smiled back eerily at him, her eyes staring unseeing at a point past his head. All of the muscles in her face were painfully taught as they were forced into the unnatural smile, but her brow was furrowed. Her eyes held no discernible expression at all outside of the smile around her blank unmoving gaze, but in the faint starlight Goro could make out the shimmer of freshly shed tears dampening her face.

Goro softened in pity as he stared at her pathetic face, but only a little. He was still angry that she had pulled his hair, knowing there would have been a gentler way to get his attention even if she could not speak. Though Goro digressed that if she had so much as touched him at all he would likely have been angry regardless of how gently she did it.

“What?” He asked her, his voice softer. If it was comfort she was seeking, she had come to the wrong man.

Her expression didn’t change. She made some sluggish hand motions Goro recognised as being an attempt at fingerspelling in sign language, but Goro didn't know any sign language, so she may as well have been trying to communicate in German for all the good it did him. 

She seemed to just be signing a few letters over and over, with little grunts of irritation escaping her bared teeth as she realised he wasn’t getting it. 

She gave up and rose to her feet. She began collecting fallen cherry blossom petals and placing them on the ground next to him. Goro could see she was trying to spell her message out on the ground, but the light breeze was enough to jostle them into illegibility, not helped by the low light conditions. It seemed to be someone’s initials. Though if Goro squinted, it might say “ _ te re bi”.  _ Perhaps she was trying to ask him if he was that guy she’d seen on TV before, which he likely was.

“Yes?” He replied uncertainly. “I  _ was _ on TV.”

Despite her agonisingly wide grin, Goro could tell she was unhappy with his response. She pointed at the illegible hiragana on the ground desperately.

“I don’t understand what you mean, I’m sorry.”

The girl’s face didn’t move from its bizarre set expression. Goro didn’t think he’d even seen her blink for this entire encounter. She kicked the petals away.

As she sat back down beside him, defeated, something changed in her, however. Abruptly gone was that tension around her forehead and the wild look of desperation behind those glassy eyes. It was like all of the fight and lucidity had been sucked out of her, leaving her but a husk of even what he knew her as. Her eyelids seemed to droop and if her mouth wasn’t pulled into such a taut grin he might have thought she looked blissful. It was the most disturbing she’d looked yet.

Goro didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt that he had to get away from her.

Something about being pants-shittingly perturbed was enough to shake Goro’s migraine for the moment, and he didn’t even notice the ache in his stomach muscles as he briskly walked back inside, glancing over his shoulder at her with every other step. She never moved from where he’d left her - not so much as a fidget or even a change in the direction of her gaze. She just looked in his direction, straight past him as if she couldn’t even see him.

Goro didn’t even bother wiping his feet, he just threw his slippers back on and made for anywhere that wasn’t the zen garden.

It wasn’t long before he bumped into someone.

“Akechi!” She said, startled by his abrupt appearance in front of her. When she saw the look on his face, she bit her lip. “What’s wrong?”

It took Goro a moment to even process who the hell he was speaking to. A woman... Middle aged. Wearing a kimono. He knew her, who the hell was she?

He was in the reception area of the facility. She must be Rie, the receptionist he met on the first night he remembered being there, who had apparently known him far longer.

Goro cleared his throat. “I...don’t know,” was all he could manage.

“You’re white as a ghost,” she informed him, subtly leading him to sit in a chair in the lobby. He complied easily, not really feeling up to being stubbornly resistant in that moment. He did feel a little unsteady.

“Something’s bothering you,” she told him, like he didn’t already know.

“Several somethings,” He confirmed.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

Rie rolled her eyes. “You really should go to the Police, Akechi.”

Huh? What did that have to do with the creepy girl?

His surprise must have shown on his face, because Rie sighed in exasperation and sat down beside him. “Whoever shot you needs to be brought to justice. Protecting them isn’t doing you any good. You can’t hide for the rest of your life just hoping you won’t bump into them.”

It was Goro’s turn to roll his eyes. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then why are you here? Extended vacation?”

“...yes,” Goro lied.

“Akechi,” she warned.

“I’m not protecting anyone. I wasn’t even...can we not talk about this right now?” He just wanted to clear his head, he did not need all this at once.

“I know you’re planning on leaving and have no idea what you’re doing. I can help you, but it’s a much easier process if you file a police report.”

Maybe it was the migraine coming back making him stupid, but Goro snapped. “I can’t file a police report against myself!”

She balked. “What?”

“I shot  _ myself _ ! There! Are you happy? I didn’t even expect to live to see the end of the year! Of course I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!”

“Akechi…” Her voice softened. It turned his stomach.

“Spare me the pity,” He seethed.

He decided that his best move was to spin this little outburst so as to have as few lies as possible. Though he would have to be careful to avoid leaving the impression that he’s a paranoid schizophrenic. It would be no small feat, given the admittedly absurd scenario he found himself in. He ran his hand roughly down his face in annoyance.

“I’m a key witness in the case against Masayoshi Shido and his sycophants. A lot of people want me dead to save their own reputations. I was freaking out and tried to do the job for them in a momentary lapse in judgement, but preservation instinct kicked in and I couldn’t bring myself to make sure the shot was fatal.” 

Then, he had an idea. “Deep down I think I just hoped to fake my own suicide as that damn phantom thief had, so they might just stop looking for me. Wishful thinking, I know.”

For a moment, Rie said nothing, just blinking in stunned silence at him.

“So, yeah. I don’t really want to talk about it.” His voice held the vicious poison on his tongue nicely.

“I still think you should go to the police. If there are really people out there that want you dead…”

“There are.” 

“...then it is their duty to protect you from them!”

Well, shit. If he told the truth, that the police have been deeply entrenched in the conspiracy from the start, there goes his credibility. He truly would sound like he was suffering paranoid delusions.

He had to keep it vague. “I...I worked with the police. When I was a detective. It...it’s not a good idea to go to them right now.”

“Why not?”

Shit. “It’s too complicated to explain.”

“Try me.”

Shit shit shit. “They wouldn’t believe me. My credibility as a  _ victim _ to them has been, um, undermined.”

“How so?”

Abort. “God, woman! Stop fucking prying! It’s none of your business!”

Rie cast her gaze at her feet. “Sorry. I’m just... trying to understand. I know there are lots of reasons why victims don’t always go to them, but it’s my job to try and help people get out of these situations.”

“You get people with  _ hits out on them _ on the regular, then?” Goro sneered.

Rie put her head in her hands. “No...no I don’t. This is a lot.” She sounded defeated. Goro almost felt bad. Almost.

“I just need to start a new life as somebody else and blow the whistle from somewhere safe, Rie. I can’t afford to stay here indefinitely, but I have nowhere else to go. It’s stressful.”

“No friends that could take you in?”

Goro bit his lip. You kind of need friends for that sort of plan to work. “Um...no. My  _ friends _ think I’m dead.”

Rie sighed. “Well, I’ll do what I can to help, then.”

\- - - - - - - - 

Rie stayed true to her word. Over the course of the following week, she made a point of acquiring hand-me-downs from her teenage son and visiting second hand clothing stores on Goro’s behalf. None of it fit quite right and it was certainly not to Goro’s taste, but that was the optimum outcome.

If Goro had learned one thing from spending his time with Ren Amamiya it was that the general public are stupid, and will fall for even the barest of disguises. Messy hair and glasses was all it took him to evade a mass of disruptive fans, and that same technique allowed Ren to fade into the background to all but the keenest of eyes.

Goro knew that with his high profile, his best option was to change his appearance enough that he would only be recognisable on close inspection - that meant abandoning his carefully crafted dignified and well tailored silhouette in favour of clothes which obfuscate his body type, and are so different from his usual fare that most would never even consider it may be Goro Akechi wearing them. 

Gone were his expensive, meticulously polished Italian shoes. In their stead were stained canvas sneakers with an insole broken-in by someone with much higher arches, it seemed. Instead of pressed slacks, he had baggy jeans and sweatpants in every colour. Button downs swapped for graphic tees and sweatshirts. He looked unkempt, which was so far from how anyone pictured Goro Akechi that it was the perfect way to dress.

Naturally, Goro hated it. He hated it with all the burning passion of a supernova. But, alas, it was what he had to do, and it was not like it was the first time Goro had taken it upon himself to do something he abhorred in the name of achieving his goals. Only this time, his goal was not revenge but simple survival. 

Rie had offered to steal his phone for him from the safe that staff kept them in outside of the allotted usage time but Goro had declined. It was an unnecessary risk to her livelihood, for if she were to be caught she would surely lose her job. But for Goro to create a new identity and reintegrate into society he would need it, so he had asked Rie to get him a new SIM card with a lot of free data, and he found a way to steal the phone himself.

It was easy enough. Staff kept the safe behind the reception desk facing a window, and they generally opened it at night, when it was faintly reflected against the glass. Goro made sure to watch the reflection of the pin entry when they opened it. Then, all it took was a distraction to get staff away from the desk. So Goro had intentionally blocked the toilet in the middle of the night when only the night shift worker was on and asked him to take a look lest he flood the bathroom. The moment he was out of sight, Goro stole his own phone back and made off like a bandit. Hardly the most thrilling heist of Goro’s career, but it got the job done.

At 4am Goro had his blanket pulled over his head, under which even the dark mode glow of his phone was enough to make his eyes sting a little. Goro didn't care enough to pay any mind to such minor discomforts, however. If it triggered another migraine so be it, for the things he was doing were far more important. 

First, he downloaded a VPN and set his location to the United States. A mild inconvenience that changing his location tended to bring up search results for less relevant, far more American, resources - but his English was passable enough to get by, and it was more important that his true location be obscured.

Goro began looking into false identification next. He set his date of birth to be a year and a few months earlier on the documents, so that he could more easily buy age restricted items, because why the hell not? He wasn’t much of a drinker and had quit smoking years ago, but it could come in handy in other ways. Not all jazz lounges are so willing to let in underage patrons even if they  _ are _ just there to listen to the music and avoid their problems for a few hours. And Goro wouldn’t be able to return to the Jazz Jin again until his Shido problem was fully resolved, after all. Even that was enough incentive for him.

But it occurred to Goro as he was prompted to upload a passport style photograph of himself for the phony license that he would need to change his appearance first. Now that he’d resumed an abridged version of his personal grooming routine, he had returned to looking more like himself than he did on that first day of true reality post-actualisation. Well, as much like himself as he could with a little bit of facial hair, as for whatever reason he had been unable to get a hold of a decent razor while staying there. He would have chalked it up to his earlier lying about a supposed suicide attempt making them wary about giving him access to a sharper blade than a butter knife - but strangely enough the lack of access preceded his little slip up. It was much to Goro’s chagrin, as facial hair looked really bad on him. Patchy and much darker than the hair on his head. Not a good look.

Goro had also been getting increasingly annoyed by how overgrown his hair had gotten, so perhaps a change in hairstyle would be the right move for his new identity. Leaving the resort for a haircut would at least give him a chance to visit a store and buy some goddamn razors at least. 

He found a reputable stylist a short bus journey from the rehab centre and booked an appointment there under a false name for the earliest possible date. He didn’t use a particularly complex name, adding a wink and a nod to his predecessor as TV’s detective prince for good measure, because fuck it, why not? He was only going for a haircut, and it’s unlikely that some random barber in a suburban town near a completely different city had much likelihood of being connected to Shido in any meaningful way. The stupid bastard is bald, for fucks sake.

  
  


Oh how wrong he had been.


End file.
